Fall of a Hero
by whitetyger123
Summary: Post Cold War: What would have happened to America and the world if Russia won. Rated M for hardcore yaoi, BDSM, language, violence, gore and historical inaccuracy Role play by whitetyger123 and schoolgirl-cheesesculpture
1. Chapter 1

Russia walked in the barren terrain, easily stepping over burnt and mangled bodies. The bomb had done its job well, better, even, than he had expected. If he were not immortal, the lingering effects would have surely killed him long ago.

A lone figure was off in the distance. Ivan already knew who it was. He got closer, and saw Alfred trying in vain to find a living soul. He finally sat down, defeated.

"You should have surrendered, Jones. It wouldn't have been this way."

Sitting on the ground, America continued to look around, refusing to look at the person who had destroyed his land. Where there was now countless, radiation burned bodies were previously fertile farm land filled with abundant wheat, canola and sunflower fields.

His eyes were wide as his brain finally caught up with the severity of the situation. Not only was just this one part of his beautiful country destroyed – and by nuclear bombs nonetheless- but so was the majority of it. New York, San Francisco and everything in-between had been cruelly destroyed by the man who was standing before him.

Finding his heroic courage, America slowly stood up, lifting his eyes to look at Russia only when he was standing up completely. "No _you_ should have surrendered. I at least would have had the decency to leave you alone and not nuke your fucking excuse-for-a-country!"

"Out of the two, at this moment I would much rather live in Russia than," he looked around at the land, filled with dust and blood, at a gnarled tree that used to be beautiful and green and now was a dead log, at the orange orb in the sky that was the sun, but now the light was filtered through the debris-filled air, and finally at what was once a building known around the world for its meaning. It once stood for freedom, its columns filled people with a sense of self-worth. Now it just stood as an eyesore, "here." He finished.

It took all of Alfred's willpower at that moment not to punch the smirk off of Russia's face. Instead, he took his anger out by reaching down, picking up a rock and throwing it as far as he could behind him.

"If it wasn't for you..." he couldn't even finish the sentence, his mind running with too much rage. "Do you even realize how many innocent lives were lost because of your idiotic scheme? This was supposed to be between the two of us, Braginski, not our people." His glare was intensified by his cracked glasses and the smears of blood and dirt across his face and torn up uniform.

A serious look on his face, Russia bent over and picked up a handful of dirt. When he stood up, he let it fall through his fingers, the wind carrying it away. "So you are saying that you did nothing of the sort? Are you really saying that you killed none of my innocent people? Had the situations been reversed, you would have done the same thing. We both know that."

As he continued to glare, America went closer to the communist and grabbed a hold of his immaculate uniform, pulling Russia's face closer to his own. "How dare you assume that I'd be just as vile as you, commie." He spat in Ivan's face, narrowly missing his right eye. "What we both do know is that I'm a hero, and as one I would never do _anything_ that you did to my people."

Without blinking, Russia took off one glove slowly, and wiped off the spit from his face. Then, with the exact same, slightly remorseful face, he looked America in the eye and said, "Just like with Hiroshima and Nagasaki?"

After letting go of his collar, America stepped back a bit, his face blanching. The bastard knew that was a low blow, judging by the small smirk on his face. "That's different. Japan bombed Pearl Harbour first, I was just retaliating." He said, his eyebrows furrowing together in anger. "This is completely different."

"You did it to end the war. I did it to end _this_ one." He looked around. "This was once a beautiful country. It can be again, you know." He sat on a broken wall. This was most likely once a building, but now it was almost nothing.

"It _will_ be, because I'm going to stay here and rebuild it. I bet England and Canada wouldn't hesitate to help me either." He clenched his hands in anger, leaving red crescent moons on his palms.

"Yes, that would be good. Stay here, and bring England and Canada. That way, I would only have to send one bomb instead of three." He let that sink in, watched America's face change to horror, then back to anger. He opened his mouth to respond, but Russia cut in. "Or, you could come with me, and I will let them live. Your choice."

America glowered at Ivan before looking to his feet. Now he definitely was between a rock and a hard place. Did he give up his freedom, his pride, his _Americaness_ and go with Russia, keeping England and Canada worried yet safe, or did he force his allies to help him rebuild his country while risking all three of their lives. There was only one thing a true hero would do: sacrifice himself for the good of all.

Slowly he raised his head again looking over the expanse of broken, dying land before staring determinedly in Ivan's frigid purple eyes. "I'll go."


	2. Chapter 2

Russia looked out the window to see America walking in the snow. There was no end to the whiteness, a prison without walls, the heroic blond had said when they arrived. But that didn't stop him from trying to find a way out of his present situation.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Ivan continued watching him, finding a perverted humour in the situation. The most obnoxious person in the world had been silent for almost a week. Of course, he was probably going mad with waiting. Russia had done so on purpose. Let him sweat it out, worrying every night what was going to happen to him the next day. Make him think that he tasted poison in every bite of food. The best kind of mind games were the ones inflicted upon oneself.

But the time for waiting was nearing its end. The tall Russian already knew exactly what was in store for his 'guest'.

America continued to walk through the knee deep snow determinedly. He kept a mantra playing over and over in his mind to keep from insanity: there must be a way, there has to be a way, there will be a way. As long as he could walk, Alfred figured, he would continue to find some way of escaping, whether it be trying to brave the elements or finding a secret passageway inside the mansion Ivan brought him to.

Wrapping his trademark jacket closer to his shivering frame, Alfred decided that he would have to wait for tomorrow to explore the area around the mansion further. The sun had almost set and it wouldn't do any good for him to freeze to death just seconds from the front door. After all, he had only been there for about a week... Hadn't he? Or was it two? His sense of time had flown out the window after only two days of crippling boredom, just waiting for the bastard to do something.

As he neared the wide, double doors, America could've sworn he saw Russia's smiling face from a second floor window, but as he took a double take it was gone. Shaking his head, he opened the door quietly, warmth washing over him in a wave. He quickly took off his boots, making sure to brush off all the snow before it melted and then brushed off the rest that was on his legs.

Quietly, he made his way up the right side of the double staircase; his every nerve high strung for the next part of his path. Russia, being his creepy self had made sure that every time America wanted to leave his room he had to go right past his. The bastard had probably custom made the floor so that it squeaked when he made his way in front of his usually open door.

Every time without fail, if America looked in his room, Russia would be standing there, a sadistic smile on his large face. This time was no exception. As soon as the floor protested against the American's weight, he looked quickly over at Russia's room, seeing the same grin that had been inhabiting his nightmares for the time he had been stuck in this abnormal prison.

Deciding this was a good time, Russia left his room and walked until he was just behind America, making no sound as he did so. When he said Alfred's name quietly, the blond whirled around in surprise.

"I suppose you have been bored these past two weeks. I am terribly sorry for that. I have been busy; as I am sure you can understand."

"Busy doing what? Growing icebergs? Killing seals? Bombing countries?" America asked snarling, as he slowly backed up; fear evident on his face.

"Ah, sarcasm, the devil's humour. But I suppose you have a lot of pent up anger. It is only to be expected. That is actually what I am here about. I have a way for you to release some of that anger." Russia smiled, knowing that, one way or another, America would do almost anything to relieve the boredom.

"...What are you saying exactly?" America mumbled, his eyes narrowing. Knowing Russia, it would be something extremely sadistic or painful – or perhaps both. But almost anything was better then singing 'The Star Spangled Banner' over and over until the lyrics made no sense.

"Just something to get your mind off of your current situation. Something I, myself, do from time to time. I also know that there is not much to do here, so I thought you would want something to break up the melancholic life. But if I was mistaken..." Ivan shrugged and turned to walk away.

America swiftly put his hand on Russia's shoulder, making him stop and turn to look at him. "Just tell me what it is. I mean... Not that I'm over eager or anything... It's just..." He looked up at Ivan's small smile, knowing full well he just fell into one of his traps.

"I'm sorry, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Looks like you're not interested, so just forget that I asked." Once again the tall Russian started walking away toward his room, his scarf flapping slightly behind him.

As much as his common sense told him to high-tail it out of there, the larger bored part of it told him to run after Russia and demand an answer. Following the bigger instinct, he ran to Ivan, pulling lightly on his scarf to get him to stop. "Fine... If you won't tell me what it is, will you at least show me?"

The Russian smiled, shadow falling over his face. "That is exactly what I had in mind." He started walking down the hall, motioning America to follow. "You see, some of the countries are having a difficult time believing you came here with me of your own free will." He kept talking, knowing that if he paused at that last sentence Alfred would interrupt. "One of them even brought up the idea that I had kidnapped you. This is not true." They made it to the door leading to the basement. Without turning around, Ivan started down the stairs. "It is now your job to show this person that he was very wrong in his thinking." At the bottom, he turned left, and stopped at a wooden door. He looked at Alfred and said, "It also gives you a chance to let out your anger." He opened the door and put something in America's hand, but he was obviously too shocked by what he saw to notice. There, chained in the middle of the room, was England, blind-folded. And, in America's hand, was a whip. "It is your job, dear Alfred, to punish him for his falsehood."

It once again took all of America's willpower not to attack Russia at this part. Even now, he knew it was better to try and use words to rationalize with him instead of tooth and claw. "Bastard! This is going too far! You said that if I came with you, you wouldn't hurt England or Canada!" As he yelled, he tried to pretend like he didn't hear Arthur attempting to get his attention.

"That is where you are wrong. I said I would let them live. As you can see, he is alive. As well, I assure you, is Matthew. And, unless you get too in the moment and whip him till he bleeds to death, Arthur will stay alive." Russia smiled, knowing exactly how this was going to play out.

"You asshole! Do you think you'll actually get me to whip him?!? And who do you think you are, using their human names?! You don't deserve to use them, Braginski." America all but spat, throwing the whip aside. "You are a sick, perverted, _twisted_ excuse for a human being."

"That may be true. I mean, I _did_ have a war with the person that raised me just so I could get away. And I _did_ try everything in my power to be as different from him as possible. And of course I left him for dead when he was helpless on the battlefield. Oh wait, that, I believe, was you, to our friend _Iggy_ over here." Russia walked over to the bound man. "Guess who is here, England. Your hero has come to save you!"

America watched in slow motion as England turned his head toward the sound of his gasp. He could even imagine those clear, green eyes looking at him, framed by his absurdly large eyebrows. Those same eyes that reminded America exactly why he was here in the first place: to help his land become as green and full of_ life_ as those eyes.

"What the bloody hell is going on Alfred? Where are we? Did Russia kidnap you as well?" England asked. His voice was quiet but it still had that tone that reminded America with a twinge in his heart of when he used to get in trouble with England when he was a kid for going somewhere without telling anyone.

His eyes wide with emotional pain, America choked out. "N..No... He didn't kidnap me as well... I did come by my own f..." he stopped for a moment and swallowed loudly, "free will."

Looking back up to Russia, America started to yell again. "Fuck this! I can't fucking whip him! He's like my fucking father! You can't make me do it!"

Watching America storm toward the door, Russia smiled. He pulled out a serrated hunting knife, he brought it up. "Alfred, are you really going to leave dear Arthur? Here? With me?" When the North American country turned around and saw him motion to England's hand with the knife, he said, "He doesn't need this to live, you know. In fact, there is a lot I can cut off and he will still be alive." Ivan grabbed one of the bound hands. "Oh well." He touched the blade to one finger.

Letting his hand drop from the door handle he continued staring at the door as England started to shout. "Don't do it Alfred. What ever he's threatening to do, it doesn't matter. Just leave. I'll be fine. After all, I lived with you for about a century and I survived; Russia couldn't possibly be any worse." He turned around just in time to see Arthur aim a weak smile in his direction, making America's heart drop.

As much as he wanted to trust England completely and just walk away and forget it all, he knew what Russia would do if left to his own devices would be ten time worse than anything he himself would do to him.

Ivan pushed slightly on the finger with the knife, causing England to let out a gasp and a bead of crimson blood to appear. The action alone caused the rest of his resolve to crash around him.

America slowly went to the side of the room where he haphazardly threw the whip, bending over and grabbing it. His hand shaking slightly, he walked over to the middle of the room where Russia was with England who was still standing, arms and legs chained up so they were spread. Looking up at the Russian, America steeled himself for what was going to have to happen. "Ok... I'll...I'll do it..." He stopped, looking at the unmarred, naked back in front of him. "_Only_ if you promise to let him go afterwards."

The communist smiled. "I promise. And I am one to keep my word." He stepped back from Arthur and went to the corner, perfectly content to watch. "I think fifteen lashes should suffice."

America watched as Russia walked over to the side of the room and sat down in a chair, clasping his hands on his lap and watching with a bemused expression. "Fucking bastard..." he growled as he looked again to the pale skin of England's back.

Testing the weight of the whip in his hand, he walked up to Arthur and whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry... I... I didn't realize this would happen... The lying ass hole said that if I went with him, he'd keep you and Matthew out of it... It was supposed to just be us!" America's voice cracked slightly on the last word from the weight of it.

It was a moment before Arthur replied, his voice cool and steady. "It's alright Alfred, it really is. Just... Just be a good boy and get it over with."

From the corner, Russia said loudly, "Whispering isn't polite, you know! And, England, you will have to be the one to count. At least I'm sure _you _won't forget a few numbers."

Growling, Alfred stepped back slowly, creating space between him and Arthur. He let the whip uncurl from his fist, the end just touching the grimy stone floor. With an experimental flick of the wrist, America wanted to see just how little force he could get away with using.

Mouthing 'I'm sorry' again even though he knew England couldn't see him, he flicked the whip; the crack of the whip against flesh and Arthur's pained gasp as he yelled out 'one' making his knees tremble faintly.

"Well, for the 'leader of the free world', that was pretty weak. I was expecting more from you, Alfred. He hardly screamed! Perhaps I should take up the reins, then, if you can't..." Russia said, and he started getting up from his chair.

"Don't!" He yelled at Russia, "I... I can do it. Sit down." America waited for Ivan to be sitting again before he started again.

"Two...Three...Four...Five..." Alfred's heart hurt more and more with each number. Each time he cracked the whip, Arthur's voice grew louder and more pained. He could now distinctly see the red welts of the first few strikes.

"Six...Seven...Eight...Nine...Ten..." He continued striking the back in front of him. The faster he hit him, the less it would hurt, America had thought to himself, inwardly cursing himself for becoming so pathetically weak.

"Eleven... Twelve...Thirteen... Fourteen...Fifteen!" Arthur's body shook, the chains holding him in place giggling eerily. America allowed himself to fall to his knees, his face glistening with silent tears. He tore off his glasses, wiping his face off on his shoulder.

Standing up, America put his glasses back on, a hard, glazed look to his blue eyes. He grabbed the whip and walked over to where Ivan was sitting. He threw the whip to his feet and stared him with his broken gaze. "I did it. Now will you fucking let him go?"

"I suppose." He walked to the blind-folded man and took out a key. Slowly, he unlocked each of the chains, and Arthur fell to the floor. America ran to him, but Ivan held up his hand, stopping him.

"You may go to your room." He demanded more than asked. Once Alfred was out of the room, Russia led England out of the mansion. He took off the blind fold, letting in the blinding light reflecting off the endless snow.

"Wh-what the bloody hell is going on, Braginski?" England said, blinking in the sudden brightness.

"Finland is that way." He got a large coat from beside the door. "Here you go. And here is some dried food."

"Are – do you mean to say you expect me to walk? That's impossible! You giant git!"

"Be glad I gave you food. You will not be able to get back in this house after I close this door, so I suggest you get on your way. Goodbye, Arthur." And with that, he closed the door, leaving England outside, with just the snow and his wounded back keeping him company.


	3. Chapter 3

Banging on the window with his fists, Alfred started yelling at the top his lungs. "Arthur! Arthur!" Unable to get his attention, he frantically tried opening the window only to find that Ivan had locked them before. Swearing under his breath, he sprinted from his room, slamming his bedroom door against the wall in the process.

He ran down the hallway, barely paying attention to the creaking floor. Reaching the stairs, he all but flew down them, going down three at a time and just barely keeping upright. He made it just in time to see Russia locking the door behind him and smiling as Alfred frantically tried to unlock them.

"There is no use, Alfred, not an army could get through those doors by sheer force." Russia put the keys in his pocket, knowing that was possibly a safer place than the Swiss banks. Who ever would be stupid enough to try and pickpocket Ivan would never pickpocket another person again.

With a savage growl America went back to the door. After what Russia had done to him so far, his statement could have been just another bluff. He continued to twist, rip and otherwise try to destroy the locks but to no avail. This was one thing that Ivan didn't lie about in any way.

As with the window, America started beating on the door. "Arthur! I'm sorry! Arthur! Arthur..." He trailed off, letting his hands slide down the door. Instead, he turned around, glaring at the still smirking Russian.

"You." He narrowed his eyes more, glowering up at him. "What the fuck! How the hell is that supposed to help my country! Fuck you! You said if I went with you, you would help me! How is getting me to whip my fucking father-figure going to help! I should've killed you when I had the chance!"

With that, Alfred lunged; his hands gripped around Ivan's thick neck. He dug his thumbs in harshly, laughing psychotically. "I should have done this on the battlefield. Then everything would have been fine." Even with his words, America could tell that he wasn't at his strongest. He had been getting progressively weaker as the days wore on – "From the radiation" Alfred had muttered to himself at the time.

Plucking the American's fingers off his neck, Russia pushed the other country to the door and held him there until his struggles ceased. "Stop talking about me helping your country. I don't care about your country, and I never did. I said it was possible to rebuild it, but I never once said I would help. I said I would let England go, and I did. You never said that I had to make sure he would get there safely. If he died out there, the cause would be your own stupidity and childishness. I was considerate in giving him a coat and food, and telling him the way to Finland. I have done much less for others. I even let it slide that you never once made him bleed. Now, finish with this temper tantrum, or you will be sleeping with General Winter tonight." He released him, and walked away, to his room, closing the door.

America watched with his mouth slightly agape as Russia walked away. Only when he heard Ivan's foot steps stop did he close his mouth and start thinking of a plan. Hopefully this way no other misunderstandings would happen.

He unhurriedly went up the stairs, taking the time to completely think through his request. After all, since he had done so much assuming to this point, it wouldn't help if he just did it again and got to watch Russia turn his promise on its head.

Just before Alfred reached the door, he stopped, mumbling 'there must be a way, there has to be a way, there will be a way' to himself before raising his hand to knock. Ever so lightly, he knocked on the door, almost jumping back as it creaked open on its own accord.

Peeking into the room, his heart beating faster, America saw that Russia was sitting at the large wooden desk in front of the panorama window. He was looking down and intently working on some sort of paperwork. Gathering up his heroic courage, Alfred coughed slightly, trying to get Ivan's attention. When that failed, he spoke up from the doorway. "Uh...Russia... Can I ask you something?"

"No." Ivan said, not even looking up from his papers. But, he knew the ever persistent blond would not give up so easily.

"Come on, just hear me out." He persisted, still in the doorway. If he could get Russia to comply with his new promise then he wouldn't have to worry about anyone's safety but his own. "Would it be possible to, y'know, change the original promise a bit?"

Russia looked up sharply. "Would you be willing to do that? To give up your health? To give up your sanity? To give up your... virginity?"

"What?!" America looked over at Russia, completely confused. "What the hell do you mean, give up my virginity?! Do you think I'm some sort of prude, waiting for marriage or something? I've had sex tons of times!"

The Russian got up and walked up to Alfred, who shied away slightly. Ivan reached out a hand, and touched his butt. "And how about here?" He whispered lightly in his ear. America visibly jumped, but before he could respond, Russia walked away and continued talking. "For me to change a promise, you must do something for me. To prove that you really mean it, you could say. You could also say it is your punishment for being so stupid."

This time, America knew pretty much what he was agreeing to when he started talking again. "Fine... But only if you stick to the new promise and don't try any funny stuff." As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew he was giving himself over. But since it was for the good of England and Canada... He'd take it like the man his is. Alfred jumped minutely again as Russia turned to look at him, the evil brightness of his smile rivalling that of the snow outside.

"I agree to your terms." Russia grew quiet, waiting for Alfred. But when the other didn't speak up, Ivan raised an eyebrow. "You have not yet made rules for the new promise."

"Right... Uh well..." Alfred started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Ok, I want you to promise that you won't harm, maim, mind-trick or otherwise mess with Matthew and Arthur _or_ their countries. Also," he added, pointing at the Russian for added effect, "you can't get anyone or any_thing_ else to mess with them in any way, shape or form, be it mentally or physically."

"Learning your lesson, I see. Alright, I promise that I will not harm, maim, mind-trick or otherwise mess with Matthew and Arthur or their countries, and I also promise to not get anyone or anything else to harm them in any way shape or form, mentally or physically." Russia walked to the door. "And now for your end of the bargain. You will be mine, until I tell you otherwise. That means that you may speak to people only when I say you can, you can go places only when I tell you to, you must do whatever I tell you to, and if you do not do so or you take too long, you will receive a punishment. You will, in all form of the word, be my bitch."

"And now, you must do something to show me your dedication. You will strip down to only boots, so your feet will not get frostbite and fall off, and you will stand outside for half an hour, being cold on the outside _and_ inside."

"Like hell I will! That would be suicide! I'll get frostbite for sure!" Alfred backed away quickly, staring up at the tall blond while yelling.

"I will be giving you better boots than yours, so your feet will not get frostbite. I have done this with more than one person, and they have only received minimal frostbite, and they were all recoverable. Since you are so mighty and strong, I am surprised that you think it possible for you to get frostbite. I am a little disappointed, in fact. But, you do not have to do what I say. I could always go in the helicopter and find our dear friend Arthur, and then go pick up Matthew as well. Your choice."

America gazed at the ground, weighing his choices. It only took a second for him to know just to do. "Fine. But I'm only doing it because I want Arthur and Matthew to be safe."

Right after he said it, he started taking off his jacket, throwing it on the floor when it was off. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it down too before looking back at the communist. "Can I at least keep Texas on?" he asked snidely.

"While I'm glad at your eagerness to become naked, we must get something from the kitchen before you go out on your little adventure." He started walking away. When they reached the kitchen, Russia opened the fridge door and pulled out an ice cube tray. He got three ice cubes out from it, and turned to see a completely naked Alfred, standing proudly. Holding up the ice cubes, Russia said, "Bend over."

"What the fuck!?! You didn't say anything about this! I'm not doing it!" Alfred looked at the ice cubes that were starting to melt in the Russian's hand, his mind imagining just how uncomfortable and _cold_ they would be in there.

"You agreed to it. I said you would be cold outside _and_ inside.'" Ivan took a step closer. "Now bend over, or the deal is off."

Without answering, he walked over to the table and bent over it, watching Ivan walk toward him, grinning. As he went to put the first one in, Alfred looked down at the table he was on, tracing the grain of it in his mind's eye to distract him somewhat.

America gasped quietly at the temperature shock as the first one went in. The ice cube had immediately started to melt inside of him because of his body heat. Before it could slip out, Ivan put in the second one. Now it started to feel uncomfortably numb except for the cool water that dripped out down his thighs.

Right after the third one was put in, Alfred started to stand up, only to be stopped by Russia's large hand on his lower back.

"If you do that, they will fall out." Ivan took out a butt plug from his pocket and put it in, ensuring they wouldn't come out. "Now you may stand up. Go outside before they melt. I will come get you when the half hour is over."

With a shiver, he got up, standing slightly bow-legged from being stretched as well as having the uncomfortable feeling of melting ice inside him. He was determined to show Ivan he could handle it though, so he made his way to the door, waiting impatiently as Russia unlocked the doors and gave him a pair of heavy-duty boots.


	4. Chapter 4

Watching from a window, Russia saw the American standing still outside, shivering. Was he really not going to realize?

After five minutes, he looked around and started walking in the direction Arthur had gone. He did realize it, after all. Alfred was finally learning how to play the game. Ivan smiled. Now was time for fun.

His teeth started chattering as America started walking toward where Russia showed England to go. It most likely wasn't going to work, but if he didn't at least try, he would never forgive himself.

It had only taken Alfred a few minutes before he realized exactly what Ivan had said. He never said that he had to stand _still_ outside for a half-hour, just that he had to stay outside naked for it. It was the perfect chance to go looking for Arthur.

Keeping his head down to look for footprints, America stuck his hands in his armpits. He vaguely remembered Canada telling him to do that if he ever found himself stuck somewhere cold. He then chuckled darkly to himself at just how different the two northern countries were. One was maniacal and devious while the other was polite and compassionate.

Alfred continued walking, valiantly trying to ignore the fact that his skin was starting to go tingly and that his vital regions had started shrivelling up inside him. 'I'm doing it for Arthur and Matthew' he said to himself. If he went back now, who knew what would happen tothem. Russia would probably strap him in a chair and make him watch as he raped and murdered them before his very eyes.

That thought alone kept America walking in a somewhat straight line in the direction of Finland. Suddenly, a gust of wind threatened to push America over, and in the process caused the loose, powdery snow to fall where the footprints once were.

Dejected, America stared longingly in the direction of where England should be – 'is, not should be' he corrected himself- then turned around. It wouldn't do either of them any good if Americawas to die out here. He made his way back to the courtyard where Ivan was watching him, leaning against a pillar. He looked smug as America went up to him, his body all but convulsing from the cold that had seeped into his bones.

"Did you find your friend?" he asked, smiling. He knew the answer when America just shivered and stood there. "Well, you look positively blue. It has been forty-five minutes. You made me wait out here a quarter of an hour. Get inside before I change my mind."

He just continued to shiver as he walked back to the door, the torrent of heat coming from the house almost burning him. Still, he continued going inside lest he be forced to stay outside for any longer.

While Alfred bent over to take off the boots with shaking hands, Russia had gone behind him and took out the butt plug; the water that was left dribbling down his frozen legs. Before he had both boots off and stood up, he felt a heavy, wool blanket being placed on his body and two arms wrap themselves around him.

"I have a fire on the third floor. Go warm yourself." Russia let America go, and he went quickly up the stairs. Ivan followed a little behind. When they got there, Alfred sat far away from the fire, but inched closer the more he got used to it. Russia just stood by the door.

"I have to leave, so you will be here alone. I do not know when I will be back, but do not, under any circumstances, go in the third room to the left in the basement."

America watched tiredly as Russia walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The fact that he specifically told him _not_ to go to the room made him start thinking of reasons he could come up with any believable explanation, he felt his eyelids grow heavy and shut them;lying down in front of the fire and letting himself rest. Exploring could wait for the morning.

.oOo.

Jumping faintly when he woke up, Alfred placed his hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart beat. It was normal for him to have nightmares–all of his nights here had been filled with them- but the vividness of it was what had gotten to him. Most were of his country being bombed in the back ground; Ivan smiling without saying anything. This one was... Different. When he had been shocked awake, America forgot what exactly had happened.

Alfred wrapped the thick blanket around himself tighter; he was still naked and the fire had been reduced to a few embers while he slept. Carefully, he stood up and walked out of the room. He went downstairs and made his way to Russia's bedroom in order to get his clothes back.

He could feel his heart start to beat wildly again. If Ivan had lied about leaving and was in his room, going in there would be an extremely bad thing to do. Slowly, he opened the door and poked his head in. No sign of the Russian yet. Feeling a bit more courageous he creeped in only to notice that his clothes were no where to be seen.

Instead, he went out of Ivan's room and quickly making it to his own. There, on the chair beside his bed where all of the clothes he had stripped from. They were all nicely folded with a small piece of paper on top of them with the word 'Alfred' printed nicely on the cover. He opened it curiously, reading the neat writing quickly. 'Alfred, please remember not to go into the room in the third door to the left in the basement. Ivan'

The note made America suddenly remember Russia's demand. If he was so adamant about him not going down there, obviously it was something he was trying to hide from him. Could it be Matthew this time? 'No,' Alfred reminded himself, 'so far he's been true to his word, so he wouldn't dare to do that... Would he?'

The fact that it might have all been a ruse to put him into an even worse situation barely went through Alfred's mind as he quickly dressed, throwing on his bomber jacket, just in case. He shut his door carefully, walking down the hallway determinedly. If it was someone that he cared about –mainly Matthew or Arthur again- he didn't want to waste any more time.

As he descended into the basement, he could feel the air get cooler. The walls were made of stone; something he had failed to notice when he went down there yesterday with Russia. His mind was more preoccupied with what exactly was going swallowed thickly, thinking about the actions of the previous day. When he got out of this hellhole he would have to apologize profusely to Arthur for what Russia had made him do. All he could wish for is that he didn't succumb to hypothermia and made it to Finland in one piece. America remembered Tino being a nice person; he would definitely help him. Not to mention the fact that he also had Berwald and Peter to keep him company. Perhaps the feisty micro-nation could help Arthur loosen up after everything he went through.

"Third door, left." Alfred muttered to himself, walking past the eerie wooden doors. He hadn't seen them at all save for the first one where England was, and it made his stomach twist, wondering if each room was the same. If that was the case, then the person in there, if there even _was_ a person, would probably be tied up as well.

Just as he opened the door, America murmured softly "Please God, not Matthew" before his mouth opened in shock of just who was sitting on the bed against the far wall.

Sitting there, looking slightly subdued was Lithuania. His back was facing the door so he didn't realize it was someone other than Ivan right away. Instead, he braced himself, ready for anything.

"Toris?" he questioned, causing him to turn around with wide eyes. It just didn't make sense. Why had Russia locked _him_ up here? It wasn't as if he had a close bond with him; yes, Lithuania did stay at his house for a bit while his economy was recovering, but it was nothing like what he had with England, Canada or a majority of the western European countries.

Lithuania stood up and walked to him slowly, his face showing just how unbelievable the situation was to him. "So it's true." He said, continuing as Alfred looked at him confused. "Russia did take you here." He was completely naked save for a ratty looking pair of what seemed to have once been white boxers as well as a black collar around his neck.

"Actually... I came here with him... He didn't force me to do anything." _Except become his bitch_America thought to himself savagely.

Toris looked up at him, compassion showing in his dark blue eyes. "Why? You're country needs you Alfred. Ah, but you better go; Russia could show up any minute. If he sees you here, we'll both be punished."

America looked over Lithuania's body quickly, taking in the bruises, scabs and various other wounds. He had known that for a while, Russia had taken a liking to the three Baltic States: Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, and that Toris had always been his favorite, to Poland's great shuddered minutely, thinking that any day now, this could be him;locked in one of these basement rooms without food or water while Ivan decided to go on a trip.

"We'll be fine. Russia told me yesterday," America stopped, the memories flooding back again, "that he was going out for a while and wouldn't be back for at least a day or two."

"I don't know... He comes up with inventive schemes... He could be watching us right now..." Lithuania stopped, looking around the room for a hidden camera. "I think you should go now."

"I can't leave you here! Come out with me, I'll get you some food and water then we can find a way out together!" Suddenly, Alfred's body surged with adrenaline. Finally, he might be able to find a way out!

Lithuania just looked to his feet. "Alfred, there is no way out. I have been here enough times to realize this." Looking back at America, he could see the brokenness Toris carried show through his eyes. "Please America, just go." The use of his nation name made Alfred realize just how severe the situation was to him.

"Before I go, can you at least tell me what has been happening? In the world, that is. I want to know how everyone is handling this. And..." America stopped, unable to say it.

"Your country?" Toris offered his eyes wide with sympathy. "...I guess you deserve to know. Make sure the door doesn't close; it only opens from outside."

Taking off his jacket, America stuffed it in the door frame, using it as a door stop. He didn't care if it got filthy, it was more important at this moment to know exactly what had been happening to the world after he left. He then walked over to the bed where Lithuania was sitting already and sat beside him.

"After you disappeared, the world fell into chaos." He started somberly, looking at the wall in front of them."The smaller countries were hit the hardest, as well as those with multiple colonies. Prices for goods skyrocketed at the loss of the world's superpower." Toris then looked over at Alfred who swallowed in fear. He didn't think that things were going to be so bad.

"Luckily, it hasn't been too long so no one has completely died yet, though a few are getting has been taking full advantage over the situation by annexing the weaker Asian countries that had already been torn apart by war but he has slowly made his way toward Europe."

"What about...?" Alfred asked his voice barely cracking.

Lithuania just nodded, understanding what he meant. "Matthew is doing ok. He is struggling just like everyone else with his economy but also with the excess radiation blown in from your country. Others are being affected but he and Mexico are getting hit the hardest."

"So... That means my country..."

"I'm so sorry Alfred." Toris apologized, looking like he was almost in tears. "About five days after you disappeared, there was a rush to go and claim your land. They tried to set up settlements and grow food but... There was too much radiation for anything to live there. Your country has turned into no man's land."

Alfred sat there silently for a few moments, letting it sink in. Yes, he knew it would have probably happened but having someone tell him that had seen it all was like getting punched in the gut. "Then... Then why am I still alive?"

"Hawaii and Alaska are still fine, and so are all your islands. Their populations are what's keeping you from disappearing."

He looked at the ground, his mind racing. "That makes sense..."

"I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you..." Toris added, looking miserably at America.

Alfred looked up at him, smiling slightly. "It's ok Toris, it wasn't your fault. I needed to know just what the fucked up ass hole had managed to do." He patted Lithuania's naked shoulder lightly, making sure not to hurt him more than he was. "I just hope that we will both get out of here in one piece and be able to save everyone."

Nodding, Toris looked back over at the door. "I do too…"

They both sat there in silence, watching the open door. Alfred could feel Lithuania's heart rate slowly increase from fear the longer they stared at the door. "…Are you sure you don't want out?"

"I'm sure Alfred…But thank you for the consideration." The side of his mouth twitched up in a small smile. "You really are a hero."

"Thanks." America smiled back and stood up, walking over to the door. "Do you want me to check up on you in a few hours? Y'know, maybe get you some water or food or something?"

Toris shook his head, all traces of the small smile gone on his stone face. "Thank you, but I will be fine. Russia always makes sure I have enough so that I won't die. Plus, the more you visit me, the more there is a chance we will both be severely punished. Good luck Alfred. I hope you find a way out."

Giving Lithuania the biggest smile he could muster, America took his jacket from the floor and muttered a quick "Goodbye" to him. He slowly shut the door, disappointed in himself for not releasing Toris, even though he knew it was going to be less life-risking this way.

He then walked back through the hallway and up the stairs to the main level, blinded at the extreme brilliance of the sun's rays being reflected from the snow outside and the clean interior. Before going back to his room, Alfred took a quick detour to the kitchen, finding a few slices of bread without mold and a somewhat bruised apple.

America gnawed on the apple on his way up the grand staircase, thinking over all that Lithuania had told him. He had thought that the economy would deflate quickly when his country all but collapsed, but not at the rate it did. The guilt in his heart had ten-folded when Lithuania had mentioned just how bad the majority of the countries had it, knowing full well that Toris was one of them along with his brothers.

The only good thing that he had gotten from their conversation was the first hand knowledge that Matthew was indeed ok. Yes, he was suffering because of the after-effects of him leaving, but he hadn't been targeted by Russia like England had before their new 'alliance' of sorts.

He made his way back to his room, throwing the apple core in the garbage beside his door. Then, he sat on the chair in front of his widow. It wasn't as large as the one in Ivan's bedroom, but it still offered a wide, majestic view of the snow covered landscape he was trapped in.

Alfred continued looking out the window, watching the languidly falling snowflakes while devouring the slices of bread. Suddenly, the snow in the middle of the courtyard started spreading out, uncovering the short grass underneath. America sat up straighter; looking out the window to see what was going out.

From the air, a helicopter slowly started to descend, touching down lightly. He didn't even have to see the face of the person who emerged to know exactly who the tall, blond haired person was. Ivan was back. Early.


	5. Chapter 5

When Ivan stepped out of the helicopter and looked up at Alfred's window, he saw the pale face for a second.

He went inside, taking off his jacket. Then he went to the basement, going into a seemingly random room. In it, there was a fire furnace, and a place where he could attach chains to, as with every room in his dungeon. Of course, now the proper name for it was basement.

Lighting the fire, he let it grow for a while, until it was hot enough. Then he went back upstairs to his medical room. He grabbed a few things and brought them to the same room in the basement.

He finally went to the third door to the left. As soon as he opened it, he heard screaming.

When the door opened, the screaming stopped, to be replaced by heavy breathing. Toris was on the floor, clutching the collar around his neck. Russia bent down and picked up a piece of rubber that had fallen on the floor. "It seems as if Alfred has been to see you."

The door to the cell was completely normal. The middle hinge, on the other hand, was not. When you closed it, it completed an electric circuit, sending a signal to the shock collar on Lithuania's neck, which would send an electric current through the brunette, which was very painful but not lethal. When the door was opened, that would break the circuit, turning the shock collar off. This would happen every time you closed the door, unless you put the rubber stopper in between, like Russia always did. Which America didn't do. And, every time you opened the door, the rubber stopper would fall to the floor.

"Thank you, Toris. Now leave."

Lithuania ran out of the room as fast as he could, past the sound-proof walls that completed this little twisted puzzle Ivan had created. While it was true that he could have set up a camera to prove that Alfred had gone in the room, this way Toris was also punished for speaking with him.

When he got back upstairs, he yelled, "Alfred!" His voice boomed in the mansion. "I wish to see you!"

Upon hearing his name yelled, America's spine stiffened in fear. The tone of Russia's voice could not be good at all. Instead of going out to see him, he waited in his room; his stomach gurgled, ruining the tense atmosphere.

A minute passed before Alfred dared to poke his head out of his door, only to be scared half to death because Russia was so close.

"When I call you, you are supposed to come. But I suppose you never do what I demand, do you?" Ivan grabbed onto America's upper-arm and started dragging him down the staircase.

"What? How did you know?!?" he yelled, pulling against the hand that was clamped on his arm. No matter how hard he tried, the Russian's fingers wouldn't move an inch.

Digging his heels into the floor, he valiantly tried to get Ivan to stop but all his efforts were in vain as the unfortunately much stronger man continued to drag him.

"You mean beside the fact that you _just_ told me?" He continued bringing him to the door to the basement, and then to the room with the furnace, Alfred struggling every inch of the way. "Obviously, you need to learn that _you belong to me_." He took a long iron rod, and on the end was a design. He put it in the fire. "You must be branded like the bitch you are."

America's eyes went wide as he realized just what Ivan was planning. "What the fuck! No!" He went over to the door, frantically trying to find purchase on the door frame to pry it open.

"You will not get away." Russia picked up the smaller man and carried him, kicking and yelling, to one side of the room, where he tied up Alfred's hands above his head, and his legs to hooks on the floor so they were spread apart. "But, I think it would be better if we did something else first. It will make it more pleasurable for you."

"How could this be pleasurable at all?! Toris told me what you've done to the world! There's no way I could feel pleasure coming from _you_." He glared furiously over his shoulder, unable to see what the Russian was preparing.

Ivan took out a long rubber tube and syringe full of liquid. "Toris did not tell you other things we have done, in the rooms in this house. You will feel pleasure, and you will beg me for it." He walked up to America, and let him see the catheter. Then he started to undo Alfred's belt.

Thrashing wildly, Alfred tried getting Russia to stop, but to no avail. "You are _not_ going to shove that thing up in me!" He continued to jerk around, swearing all the while as Ivan finished undoing his belt and started on the button and zipper.

"I disagree." The pants came off fully, leaving only American boxers. Soon, those were off as well. He smirked at the slightly erect penis. "And, apparently, this disagrees as well."

"Well I fucking disagree with you and it's attached to _me_." He stopped talking suddenly as Ivan grabbed roughly onto his manhood, dragging his hand up slowly. The smirk on Russia's face was widening as he continued his movement.

When America was sufficiently hard, Ivan took the catheter and touched the tip to Alfred's penis and pushed. He heard a gasp from above, but kept pushing it through.

Alfred all but screamed as the tube entered the tip of his now-erect cock. As it went further in, the awkwardness of it made him squirm more in discomfort then wanting to be let go. The feeling of a foreign object going up and through his urethra caused America to wonder just what Ivan was going to gain from this.

When it was far enough in, Russia stopped and got the syringe filled with liquid. "Aphrodisiac." He explained calmly, as he put it on the end of the tube and started pushing the liquid out. "It gets in the blood faster this way." When it was all in the catheter, he made it go down, all the way through America's cock, which was twitching.

Biting his lip hard, America forced himself not to moan as the cool liquid seeped through his cock. Doing so would just be playing into the bastard's hands. He watched as Russia walked away again through haft-mast eyes; partially because it was - as much as he didn't want to admit it- affecting him, as well as the fact that it still felt awkward.

As he leaned over the sweating 'hero', Russia's scarf fell down and brushed Alfred's bare arm. He saw his victim shiver, the drugs already starting to affect him, making him extra sensitive to everything around him. "Feeling hot yet?" asked the smiling Russian.

"No." he spat, trying to force his body to stop shaking. It didn't help when Ivan just smiled, blowing lightly on Alfred's neck, causing a slight sheen of sweat to form on his body. "You will never," he stopped, almost moaning as Russia trailed a finger down his spine, "make me that way."

Walking away, Russia sighed sarcastically. "Well, if you can't be affected that way, then I might as well just get to the main attraction." He picked up the iron bar from the fire, the end now red hot. "You will always remember that you are mine." With that, Ivan waved the stick to where his bitch was, and then brought it close to his ass. "Can you feel the heat?" That was when he finally touched it to America's skin, burning the Soviet Union symbol into his flesh forever.

America's mouth opened in a silent scream, only to be heard a few seconds after the blistering hot brand was pressed onto his butt. He could almost feel the fat and skin melting away, leaving an ugly scar in the shape of the twisted metal.

The more he screamed, the more Ivan pressed the brand onto him; his throat starting to go raw. His entire body was already super sensitive so the pain had immediately shot through it all, igniting his nerves and making him sweat even more. The more embarrassing thing was not only was Russia marking him as his own, but that his cock had started to twitch, continuing to do so the more he was in pain. Alfred never would admit to it, but he always knew he had a slightly masochistic side to him. After all, the only way to rise to the top is to take everything everyone throws at you, and the best way was to enjoy it.

With one last push of the iron bar, Alfred's scream dropped in pitch, turning more into a moan as he reached his climax. The majority of it fell to the floor, but a bit had landed on his stomach. Right as he finished, he allowed himself to hang his head down in shame.

"Well, looks like you were already 'that way', dear Alfred"' Russia remarked, laughing at America's situation. With a quick flick of the wrist, he pulled out all of the catheter, making Alfred gasp. Then he bent down until he was eye level with the mark, and he licked it, tasting the charred flesh. "Masochist." He said quietly, just loud enough for his 'guest' to hear.

Then he once again walked to the medical box and took out some ointment. "I wouldn't want it to get infected." He explained before putting the stinging medicine on the burn.

"Sadistic bastard." Alfred hissed as the wound was touched again, the medicine causing it to sting as well as burn. He shook slightly as Russia continued to bandage it up, the light pressure making pain shoot up his spine. Looking back down, he stared at his cum-stained front, even more embarrassed that it actually happened like Ivan had most likely planned out.

Once the burn was treated properly, Russia untied his patient, who almost fell to the floor. "Since you can't walk, I guess I will have to carry you." Russia said right before picking him up, bride style. America protested, but not as much as he had before. They left the room and went down the hallway, right past the stairs, and stopped three doors after the staircase, to the left. "For going in here when you weren't meant to, now this will be your room for your recovery." He opened the door and put America on the bed, lying on his stomach. "Have fun!" the door closed and locked; Russia on the outside and Alfred on the inside.

Alfred watched as the door closed, effectively trapping him in the small room. Even though Lithuania _probably_ wasn't branded, he could tell that being stuck in here sucked.

Looking around the room for the second time today, America couldn't find anything that could help him escape. There was a small toilet in the corner of the room but other than that, the only thing was the lumpy, dirty bed he was laying on now.

As he put his head back down on the bed, he could feel his butt pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He wished that Ivan had at least given him back his pants, but he was definitely not in a position to bargain anymore. Russia had made him give up his body last time, so what else did he have? His spirit? His will? Neither of those were going to the ass hole that had done this to him.

Since he had nothing better to do, Alfred shut his eyes. If he could get some sleep now, maybe he wouldn't have to think about how the world was being destroyed by the person who had tricked America into following him. Slowly, he fell into a fitful sleep, filled with broken countries and dying lands.


	6. Chapter 6

Once again, Russia went into the cell with a tray of stale bread and water. When he opened the door, he saw America was sitting up in bed.

As Russia came into the room Alfred made sure to sit on his butt, showing him that he was fine. "Food and water for me? You shouldn't have." He said sarcastically as they were placed on the bed beside him.

"I see that you are trying to prove that you have healed, and should be let out of this room." Russia said with a knowing look. "Turn over and I will inspect it."

Grumbling under his breath, America turned on his stomach in order for Ivan to inspect the burn. In reality, it had started to scab over so every time he moved, the skin around it pulled at it, making it hurt more. He hastily grabbed the bread and ate it, in case Russia decided to torture him more by not letting him eat. He then guzzled the water and swallowed just as the commie poked it, causing him to gasp.

"Well, it is obviously not healed, but I must leave for a few days, so I won't be able to feed you. You will have to go back to your own room and make your food yourself. So get out now, before I decide to make you stay and just starve." Russia had a strange way of being nice, but he would never let his pets die.

Before Ivan even stood up, Alfred had rolled off the bed and started making his way out the door. There was _no_ way he was going to stay in that hellhole, especially if he wasn't going to be able to eat if he did. He continued walking, going through the hallway and up the stairs with Ivan behind him the entire time.

Russia chuckled, seeing America walk up the stairs with his butt hurting. It was amusing seeing the inflamed red mark move with the muscle underneath. When they were out of the staircase, he went to the front door, leaving America alone to brood over the past few days.

He continued up the stairs, hearing the door close as Ivan left the house once again. Going past Russia's room as always, he made it to his room, opening the door and making his way to the bed. It was kinda creepy; nothing had changed inside of it, but with everything that happened to America since the last time he was in it, he almost expected it to have changed as well.

Silently, he lay down stomach first on his bed and watched as the black helicopter took off and flew away. He knew he should be glad he was able to roam freely in the house, but he still had a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Instead, to keep his mind from thinking of it, he started idly singing a bunch of Broadway show tunes; his voice echoing strangely around his room.

.oOo.

"You bastard!" France ran at Ivan, only to be held back by China and Cuba.

Russia shook his head. "Temper, Francis, temper. You got England back, so you should be with him, at the hospital. Not here, fighting a war that you cannot win. You are a lover, not a fighter."

"You did it to him! He got to Finland half dead! And who knows what you did with America! _Merde_ !" With that, he stopped struggling, letting the two communist countries hold him back.

"And how do you know I did it? Has England said anything?"

A small tear rolled down France's face. "Non, he has not."

"There we go. Now, France, I suggest we keep to what this meeting was about. Do you still wish to join us? If you do, I promise you that dear England will be safe in the hospital." Russia sat down on a chair, looking at the broken man.

"Yes... I will join you. But you must promise that England will be safe in the hospital."

Ivan smiled. "Yes, I promise."

.oOo.

America had waited for Ivan's helicopter to disappear completely before he got back up and stretched. If he wasn't going to be back for a few days, Alfred had some time to further explore the mansion. He already knew there were a multitude of strange rooms in the 'dungeon' of the house, but the rest of them were still pretty much a mystery.

He groaned slightly at the pain still emanating from the charred flesh on his butt. Instead of dwelling on it, he tried to put on his boxers, hissing as the material rubbed uncomfortably against the burn. It was enough to be somewhat covered, so he left it at them, not even bothering with pants.

Even though he knew the large Russian had just left, there was a strange feeling, almost as if he was being watched. It was possible that Ivan had put up cameras, but America just shrugged it off as nerves. After all, he had gotten the most amazing idea as he watched Russia leave for the second time. He might need a few days to get everything together for it, but it was definitely worth it if it ended up working.

Before he got started on his idea, America figured he may as well give the house a one-over. Even though Lithuania had said there were no ways out of the house, maybe he just didn't look in all the places. Alfred on the other hand, had his decades of movies imprinted in his mind. Maybe Toris had only looked for the obvious; secret hallways and the such. Well America wasn't going to leave it at just that.

He walked out of his room slowly. He didn't have to rush because he was positive that Ivan had said 'a few days' and not just a vague 'a while'. America had slowly been understanding how Russia's mind worked. The more vague a comment was, didn't mean he should just assume what he meant. But he, being America, would probably still continue to do so.

The first room was a vast library, filled with books in a variety of languages -the majority being, of course, in Russian- and sizes. This was a perfect place to start his search. He went to the books at shoulder height first, figuring they would be close to the chest height of Ivan. One by one he pulled the spine of the books toward himself, waiting for the wall to suddenly start spinning around, giving away the entrance to a secret passage. When none of them seemed to be the key, he went to the next section, then the next, none of them working.

Sighing dejectedly, Alfred walked out of the room. Obviously the commie had never watched any of his best action-detective movies. The next room he went in was just another guest room; white and bare as his own. He threw a quick glance inside, deeming it not worthy of exploration. He continued looking in the rest of the rooms on the second and third floors, nothing exceptional about the majority of them. There was the one with the fire place where America went and pressed every brick in it at least twice before letting himself believe that it truly wasn't going to start a chain reaction, causing the back of the fireplace to slide away.

Finished with the majority of the house, the blond nation then went down to the main level, checking random statues, knobs, strange bumps on the wall and various other things for secret switches. He then went into the kitchen to grab something to eat; immediately dismissing the thought of having a tunnel or passageway in there. The food that was left was the normal fare that Russia had continued to feed him: basic fruits and vegetables like apples, carrots and the like, bread and small pieces of what seemed to be beef. He grabbed a few carrots and a pear, not willing to trust the meat.

Alfred munched on them determinedly, his mind now floating over to his idea. If it was going to work, he would have to make sure he had all the proper equipment for the job. Racking up a 'shopping list' for things he had to find, he finished up the food. First of all, he would need a better jacket then his own. Hopefully it would be big enough for him to wear his underneath, but if worse came to worse he would have to leave it. Also, a good pair of gloves would definitely come in handy as well as those boots Russia had made him wear. If he had enough room and could find one, a gun or some other weapon would help. Maybe some food too just to make sure.

The only thing left to think of was where to hide it all before he had a chance to use it. Russia probably searched his room, so that was out of the question. Maybe he could hide it... Yep, that'd work. There was no chance he'd find it there.

Determinedly, he started looking for the objects. The boots, jacket and gloves were easy enough. The closet in the foyer had a variety to choose from so hopefully the Russian wouldn't notice if a few things were missing. Now the weapon. That was going to be the difficult part. "I guess I could look in Russia's room..." America said to himself, automatically rejecting the idea as soon as he said it. It would be too obvious if anything was missing from in there. "The basement?" he thought next. It would make sense that there would be something he could use in there, but once again, it would be too obvious. The weapon was going to have to wait for later.

He took the stuff up to the room he was planning on storing it in, hiding it carefully. If Russia even got a whiff of his plan, it would all be for nothing. He just hoped the Russian was as bad finding things as he was creating a tricked out mansion.

.oOo.

The mansion came into sight, covered in a light coating of snow. Russia sighed, piloting the helicopter. Taking over the world was indeed a tedious job. It required invasions, bombings, potentially violent meetings, most of which Ivan could conduct from his own home, but some of which required his physical presence. When he wanted to play with his newest pet, he had to sit in large rooms, hearing other countries drone on about the right things to do, and how he wasn't going to get away with this. Some people were just stubborn that way.

He landed the machine expertly, having done so in many a snow storm. Well, at least this trip had one good point. If Alfred was a good boy, he might tell him that his beloved Arthur was alive. Or maybe not.

Opening the door, he saw that America had been up. The closet door was slightly ajar. That was perfectly alright with the larger country. After all, he had never said a thing about not leaving his room.

Of course, this brought up a whole other matter. He should always be able to find his toy, no matter what. Even when he was away, should he not be able to tell where he was at all times?

Walking up the stairs, he went to his room and got some rope. Then he went to America's room and saw the defenceless country, on his stomach, pretending to sleep. With one swift movement, Russia tied one of Alfred's hands to the bed, and with America squirming, he tied the other hand and both feet.

As soon as Ivan had grabbed a hold of his hand, America knew something was going to happen. He tried to kick and twist to get away, but the larger country quickly and easily tied him down to the bed. Alfred was in such a position that he was unable to turn his head to look at the shoulder closest to Russia. "What the hell is this?? I didn't do anything you told me not to do!" Ivan then ran his finger along the brand, causing America to hiss and attempt to get away from the touch.

"But I realized that I do not know what you are doing when I am away. You could even run away, and I wouldn't be able to find you, and you would die out there in the cold. So I am going to put a tracking device in your arm." Russia pulled out a knife, and held down the American's arm while Alfred struggled to get away. Then, he made a small cut on his upper arm, about half an inch deep.

America grit his teeth together as Ivan made the cut. Through the sting, he could feel something being placed inside of it. Since he couldn't turn his head to look at the cut or the person who made it, he channelled his confusion and anger into his voice. "What did you do?!?! Get whatever you put it my arm _out_!" The blood from the wound had started running its way down his arm, leaving a wet trail.

When he was finished, Russia put a band-aid on the cut. He smiled. It was a blue band-aid, with sunflowers on it. "There you go." Then he walked to the door, leaving the American tied up. "I suppose if I untie you before that has healed, you will simply take out the tracking device. So you will stay like that. It should only take a day." And with that, he was gone down the hall to his own room.

His head reeling, it took Alfred a few seconds before he started thrashing around again, trying to get loose. "God damn commie bastard..." he growled, still squirming. After a minute of not getting anywhere, America decided to try to slowly get the bonds undone. Thrashing around aimlessly had just served to get the knots tighter.

Slowly, he tested each of the bonds. The ones on his ankles were a bit looser compared to the ones on his wrists, but by no means loose enough to slip them off. He was only able to move them a bit, while his wrists were effectively immobilized. Also, he was unable to turn his neck to the other side, forcing him to stare at the wall.

Just then, his stomach growled almost as if on cue. And he had just had brunch too...


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Russia let America go. "There is food in the kitchen." He watched as the other country quickly made his way downstairs to get as much food as he could. When he was finished, Ivan also cut up an apple, cutting himself with the sharp knife. He put it on the table and licked his finger. "You may continue eating. I must go do paperwork in my office." He walked away, leaving the American chewing on the apple.

As much as America still didn't trust Russia, the overwhelming grumbling mixed with pain coming from his stomach had forced him to take what he gave him. Still gnawing on the apple slices, he fingered the band-aid. He had looked down at it almost immediately after Ivan had let him go. He smiled snidely at the fact that it was a light, powder blue with small cartoon-esque sunflowers adorning it.

Alfred finished up the apple, his gaze finding its way onto the knife. His cut couldn't possibly be completely healed in just one day... And the possibility of having a GPS device in his arm didn't appeal to him in the slightest. Not only would it allow the Russian to find him anywhere inside _or_ outside the house, but it would throw a serious wrench into his grand-master plan. To add insult to injury, the thing was probably his technology too... The thing definitely had to go.

He allowed himself to pick up the knife, already knowing that it was sharp enough to cut flesh from the Russian's little incident. Peeling away the band-aid quickly, he walked into a seemingly pointless side room; probably for entertaining 'guests' or something. There, a large, full length mirror allowed America to get the first glance of himself since he had first been taken here. His skin had started turning pale from the lack of sunlight and he had started to lose weight. Other than that, his eyes still had pretty much the same fighting spirit in them.

Turning to the side the cut was on, he looked at it for a few moments before deciding exactly what to do. He didn't want to cut too deep and bleed himself to death, but he definitely wanted the freaking thing out. Bringing the tip of the knife to the preexisting cut, he sliced open the tender skin, drawing a bit of blood, but not much. He screwed up his face a bit in pain, but not a sound escaped. Next was the hard part. He slowly made the cut longer, blood welling out rapidly at the new puncture. Then, he put his finger in, trying to feel around lightly for any foreign object.

"Fuck..." Alfred muttered to himself, wincing in pain. There was nothing he could distinguish being not originally in his body. Desperate, he cut it a bit deeper thinking that maybe Ivan had just pushed it in somehow. Even through the pain, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he couldn't feel anything. Nothing remotely like the shape of the small, rounded object he had inserted.

Finally giving up, he looked down to the ground, seeing a small pool of blood on the expensive looking floor. He quickly took off his shirt, wiping the worst of the blood from the floor and inconspicuously moving the rug nearby on top of the rest. Before he continued to bleed on the floor, he wrapped up the would with the cleaner side of his shirt. Next, he went to the kitchen, cleaning the blood off the knife with water before placing it back on the cutting board where Ivan had left it.

Holding his arm to help stop the bleeding, America quickly ascended the stairs, trying to make it to his bedroom before Russia would realize that he tried to remove the tracker. Almost as if on cue, the floorboards in front of the commie's room squeaked obnoxiously, making Alfred stop and his heart beat increase.

Knowing what the sound of the squeaking meant, the large country walked to the door and saw America cradling his arm, which was dripping blood. "Well, what have we here? Do you have a squished tomato on your arm?" The look on Alfred's face at the unexpected question told Russia the answer to the pointless question. "If not, then why is there red dripping on my floor? Could it be that you were trying to get the tracker out of your arm, so you made a large cut that will need stitches?"

America looked up at Russia then quickly down the hallway toward his room. If he ran fast enough, he might be able to make it and barricade himself inside. It might not have been said that Alfred had to keep the thing inside of his arm, but it was pretty much a given that he had broken one of Ivan's twisted rules.

Glaring once more at Ivan with sparking blue eyes, he turned around and ran. He didn't hear the extra footsteps of the taller nation as he quickly ducked into his room and with his good arm, slammed the door closed. Just as quick as he ran into the room, he grabbed the chair at his desk and shoved it under the doorknob. It had worked before when England had tried getting him out of his room; he just hoped it would work with Russia as well.

Sitting on the floor, he looked at his arm, wincing again with pain as the shirt pulled slightly at the skin. Alfred could hear Ivan walking toward the door now and was genuinely freaked at what was going to happen to him this time. "God save America." he muttered darkly to himself as he heard Russia reach his door.

Slowly, Ivan took out the small bar on each of the hinges. Then, he swung open the door, the opposite way. "Well, it seems you no longer need a door." And he walked into the room, cornering America. "That is a large cut. It will need stitches. If you come with me, I will fix it up, good as new."

Still sitting, Alfred thought for a moment before standing up. After all, he should have been glad he wasn't dead at this moment. "Fine I'll go with you..." He grumbled under his breath, his eyes scintillating once more. It hurt his pride to be ordered around, but it was better having a hurt pride then a hurt body.

Russia led him upstairs to the medical room. He sterilized a needle and some special thread. When that was good, he told Alfred to sit on the chair. "Don't worry, I have done this before." Then he took the needle and thread over to his patient and threaded the needle.

Alfred watched with wide eyes as Ivan threaded a needle and grabbed his injured arm, pulling it away from his body. "What about drugs?! I'm not letting you do this if you don't give me anything for the pain!" He tried to get his arm away from the vice-like grip but it didn't work.

"But I'm afraid I don't have any with me. There is no other choice." Ivan put the needle to the inflamed skin and pushed it through, ignoring the cry of pain. "You gave yourself such a large cut, but you can't stand this?" He continued sewing up the skin, enjoying the sounds America was making. When he was finished, he cut the thread with scissors, and said "Now all we need to do is sterilize the wound." He took a bottle, and poured pure vodka on the fresh cut. Alfred yelled some swear words at the burning feeling.

"Fuck!" he growled as the alcohol burned the wound. The skin was already pulsing from the cut and now from the new stitches; the alcohol didn't help it at all. America pulled his arm close to his body as soon as Ivan let go of it, cradling it to his body.

"Now, don't go needlessly cutting yourself, just to try to find something that isn't there." Russia said, and walked out the door.

"But I was...Wait, what?!?!" America yelled, running after Ivan. " 'Something that isn't there?!?!' Is this supposed to be some mind-trick, trying to get me to forget about it?! Well it isn't working! I'll get that fucking thing out of my arm somehow!" Russia just continued walking without bothering to look back at the enraged American.

The Russian smiled. Yes, America was learning to not trust him. But perhaps he was learning a little too well. It might not be good if he won't believe some things that are true. Or some things that are false, as well. Although it would be fun watching what else he would try to do to get the imaginary locater out of his arm. He was much too paranoid. Probably thought his boss was holding secrets from him, like if aliens were real or not.

.oOo.

Once again, Russia was away for something or another. 'Probably out torturing cute little seal cubs.' Alfred thought semi-jokingly. Mind you, at this point, that would probably be one of the lesser evils Ivan would commit.

He had waited a week for the Russian to decide that he had to go out again; luckily enough, his arm was almost completely better now and he could move it around without cringing in pain. Even though he should have been grateful for the stitches, they made it more difficult to look for the GPS. Russia _had_ said there was nothing there, but one could never trust Ivan too little.

Since Russia had left, it had created the perfect opening for his plan. Now he just had to set all the parts in place and everything would be perfect.

First, create a 'stand-in'. Something that Russia could see from a distance and think was Alfred. With a sigh and a moment of silence for it, America took off his jacket, placing it on his pillow and leaning it against his desk so it looked like his torso. This way, Ivan would think he was still in his room while the commie was outside. Next, to get all the supplies he hid before. Hopefully Russia didn't find them, because he didn't say anything if he did. If they were gone though, he could just get more from the closet.

Alfred went back to the library to get his stash. He had hidden the items between a dusty old reading chair and the corner of the bookcase. The reasoning behind the spot was that there was more dust then usual around them, and using his epic detective skills, he deduced that it meant Ivan didn't go there too often. It would have been way more difficult if he had maids. After grabbing the stuff, he went down to the kitchen, grabbing a few things to eat for now and later. America didn't want to starve if he got lost. As an after thought, he looked around in the cupboards for the same knife he used to cut his arm. Wrapping it up in a spare hand towel, America forced it in his boot in case he needed to use it.

He put on the boots, long jacket and gloves, then unlocked the door, only for it to fly open and hit the wall. Luckily it didn't leave a mark, but the strong wind was blowing in a lot of snow. Hurriedly, Alfred got outside and shut the door.

Now came the hard part. The fierce wind would either be his enemy or his ally. He trekked determinedly in the now thigh deep snow, incredibly grateful for the thick jacket and tall boots he 'borrowed' from Ivan. First, he walked to the centre of the courtyard a few times from the edge of the house, creating a hopefully unnoticeable pathway. Then, he walked around aimlessly, making it look like he went outside and did just that. If Russia thought he had gone outside for a slight change of scenery, all the better for his plan.

The next few parts relied on Russia being slightly ignorant or at least wiling to wait and see what he was up to, and his own intelligence and memory. Also, Alfred now had to wait for Russia to return from wherever he was. America made his way to the side of the house, digging out the side door he knew was there. While in the kitchen, he had unlocked it so he could wait inside for Ivan to return home.

Through the whistling of the wind, Alfred could hear the faint, telltale sound of the helicopter's blades slicing through the air. That single, distant sound was all he needed to get his heart pumping and adrenaline flowing. This was going to be it. It was either this, or condemn himself to die in this prison. As the sound became louder, he once again returned outside, sneaking along the side of the house and watching the small black dot morph into a giant black copter as it got closer.

Just as it landed, America got a dangerous glint in his eye, similar to when he was at the top of his game. "For life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." he said to himself, grinning. As Russia stepped out of the copter, he tensed himself; these were the few precious seconds he had to wait. Semi-patiently he strained to hear the sound of the door close. When he did, he shot off like a bullet down the pathway he had created earlier and straight for the imposing black helicopter.

As he landed the helicopter, Russia looked, as always, to Alfred's room. He saw a silhouette there, that looked slightly misshapen. Almost like it was just a pillow, meant to look like a human. The next tip off was that it didn't move. This was definitely not America.

When he got out, the snow was deep. But, of course, he liked that. It was so normal for him, he now looked forward to it when returning home. He went inside, ears barely picking out the crunch of snow. He continued up the stairs to go see what was standing in the window in his captive's room. Stepping through the door-less doorway, he saw it was indeed a pillow, with America's infamous jacket. Then he looked out the window, to see the routers start to slowly spin.

Amazed with his luck, Alfred allowed himself to give a celebratory cheer before looking to the dashboard of the unfamiliar helicopter. If it was anything like the models he had at home (which so many were, because the bastard had stolen so many of his blueprints for so many things) he would just let his muscles do the remembering for him. Even with all the switches and buttons labelled in Cyrillic lettering, the memories of countless flights let him start the machine up professionally.

As a safety precaution, he threw the headset on. It was still slightly warm from Russia using them just a moment before, but too much was on the line to be grossed out by it. Alfred grabbed a hold of the joystick and cursed the slowness of the starting blades. Never mind Ivan using the tracker to find him, he would just have to look out of any window and see....Shit. There he was, doing exactly that. The creepy man was in his room, inspecting his look-alike and staring down at him. The real America. 'The real America that needed this' "Fucking helicopter to fucking start!" Alfred continued out loud, cursing the machine.

Hopefully it would take just enough time for Ivan to get outside for him to have already left. Then he could go and find Canada and England and they could move to Antarctica together. After being here for so long, the cold wouldn't bother Alfred nor would it bother Canada. England might try to fight it, but if it meant they could all live peacefully for however long, it'd be worth it. After all, there were penguins there. They would be easy prey, what with them not being scared of humans and all. With any luck they'd taste like chicken; big, fat, waddling chicken.

In a last ditch attempt to get the hunk of Russian metal air born, America moved the joystick.

Ivan got outside just in time to get a glimpse of Alfred moving the joystick. He smiled, watching the cockpit fill up with almost transparent gas. Of course, America wouldn't have known about the safety button. And he wouldn't have known that if you moved the joystick without pressing the button beforehand, it throws a switch, releasing toxic gas. Of course, it would only kill if inhaled for a full minute, so he most likely had time to get out of there, if he didn't pass out before the door was opened.

A face appeared in the window of the door, trying to get it open. A simple task under normal circumstances, but more difficult when under stress.

After sixty-five seconds, the door opened, and America tumbled to the ground, unconscious. He had just managed to get the door open before succumbing to the effects of the gas. He had held his breath long enough, it seemed, to still be alive. Russia went over to the limp body and checked vital signs before picking him up and taking him back into the house. He was still alive, and he would pay for that fact.


	8. Chapter 8

America woke up with his head in a daze. It felt like his entire body was filled with cotton so that he could barely move. He opened his eyes; even that being a chore for his unresponsive body. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, Alfred noticed that he was in a somewhat empty room. He was on his stomach lying on a bed in what seemed to be one of the basement's rooms. Why was he here again?

There was a small, nagging sensation in the back of his mind. He must of done _something_ wrong to have ended up here. All he could remember was something to do with Russia coming back... And being outside and all of a sudden not being able to breathe... Why wasn't it coming back to him? If he had the balls to do something wrong again, he definitely wanted to remember just what he was being punished for.

He groaned as his head started pounding. 'Great, just what I needed.' Alfred thought. And he couldn't even reach up to his head and massage his temples. It already was taking the majority of his energy just to keep his eyes open. Maybe if he just went back to sleep...

The sound of the door opening behind him caused him to keep an eye open slightly; just enough to watch Russia walk into the room.

"When stealing a helicopter, Jones, you should take into account why it was left by itself, with no locks, when the owner knows you can fly one." He continued walking into the room, noticing that Alfred wanted to say something, but was having trouble. "Worrying why it's difficult to move? An after effect of the gas. You should be glad you are alive. Many other people trying to escape me have come out of that cockpit with less life than you did. In fact, the inventor died that way." He sat down on the bed, beside the naked man. "The affects of the gas will be long gone after an hour. However, the affects of you punishment will be longer in fading."

Trying valiantly to say _anything_, Alfred gave up after he only was able to get out a few mumbled sounds. What did he mean, 'stealing a helicopter'? Is that what he had done; or at least tried to do? The gas did explain the headache, the lack of muscle coordination and the feeling as if his tongue was glued to the inside of his mouth. Now that he mentioned it, he could faintly remember sitting inside the helicopter... 'Woah,' America thought again, 'I actually did it!' then mentally kicked himself for getting so excited. Obviously if he was here still, his plan didn't work. That thought immediately deflated what little hope he had for finally leaving this place. Russia would never voluntarily let him go, and after his attempt at leaving, he would probably lock him up.

"You have been a very naughty boy, Alfred. You tried to get away from me. That is not a thing people usually do more than once." Russia flipped over the semi-paralysed man so he was lying on his stomach. "You will most likely not try it again, either." Repositioning himself so he was on top of America, Ivan unzipped his pants, unleashing his large cock to the cold, underground air. "I suppose this will be the first time anything but shit has been up here, da?"

Even before the tip of Ivan's cock had pressed into America's hole, his eyes had shot open from being flipped over. The fear he was feeling had made energy course through his body, but not enough to get out from under the large Russki. "S-stop ass hole!" Alfred managed to stutter. Cursing himself for being so weak, he tried to pull away, only to be pulled back by his hips onto the thick shaft piercing into him.

"Wow, Alfred. Your first time, with no preparation, and no lube, and I go in this easily. You have such a lewd body." Russia slammed into the tight ass, smiling at the fact that he was raping America. It was obvious this was his first time being dominated in this way, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It was amazing that he had gone this long without being raped, but Ivan had had Lithuania to satiate him. To get a better angle, he lifted up Alfred's waist, and also felt the other country's cock. It was rock hard. "Amazing, Alfred. And this time, without any aphrodisiacs. I wonder, will you cum by simply having my dick in your ass?"

Alfred's face screwed up in pain. He wasn't able to get away from the vice grip on his waist that was bruising it and forcing himself to be penetrated deeper. With Ivan's hand on his dick, America moaned slightly, making him ashamed. Even his body had reacted to Ivan's actions, and not in the way he wanted it to.

Slowly, he could feel his body gaining it's strength back. He wouldn't do anything yet; not until what he did would have some sort of effect.

The creaking metal bed slammed against the wall, almost breaking under the momentum of Ivan's thrusts. He grabbed America's limp wrists, holding them so tight they would definitely be bruised. The tight heat around his shaft was amazing. Stabbing America with his cock was almost as good a feeling as stabbing a person through the gut with a knife. With the hand that was still on the slack hips, he made them slam back onto his dick. He dug his nails into the soft flesh, making small pools of blood.

When Ivan's hands appeared on his wrists in front of him, Alfred got an idea. Slowly, he leaned forward enough so that his mouth was up by the tangle of hands and wrists. Just as Russia thrust roughly in for the umpteenth time, America bit down on his arm hard. Locking his jaw on the stocky arm the best he could, he tore his hands from the loosening grasp. Alfred thought he faintly tasted blood as his teeth bit into the flesh. With his now free hands, America quickly grabbed a hold of end of Russia's scarf and tightened it against his throat. It wasn't much force, but it would hopefully make Ivan stop.

Letting go of the bruised hips, Russia slid his not bitten hand into his pocket and pulled out a knife. It was smaller than the one he had used to threaten England's fingers, but still as deadly sharp. Not being able to breath was an annoyance. The look in Alfred's eyes said that, given the chance, he would gladly kill the Russian. However, he wouldn't be getting the chance.

America's right hand, the one not holding onto his scarf, was resting on the wall for support. Aiming, Russia thrust the knife into Alfred's hand. It went through flesh, and Ivan felt it nick bone, but it went all the way through, pinning the hand to the wall.

Screaming from the white-hot pain in his hand, America let go of the arm and the scarf. "Fucking bastard!" he yelled, reaching for the knife to rip it out. As soon as the fucking thing was out of his hand, he swore that it's next home would be sheathed in Russia's motionless heart. Ivan continued to pound into him, the blood that was now running freely from his ass helping him move faster and deeper.

Before the screaming blond could grab a hold of the knife, Russia stopped him. With his bitten hand, he pulled the knife out of America's flesh. As soon as it was out, blood started flowing freely, without the knife there to plug up the hole. He brought the bloody blade to Alfred's neck, pressing down ever so slightly, drawing a small drop of blood. "Try something like that again, and it won't be your hand getting stabbed." He whispered into his victims ear, before licking it. He continued thrusting into the pain-filled body, not yet satisfied. Seeing the writhing hand, now covered with blood, he squeezed it tightly.

White spots flashed in Alfred's vision from the overload of pain. Not only was he bleeding from the inside, but from his hand as well; it didn't help at all that Russia was squeezing his hand. Also, the now scabbed burn on his butt was rubbing uncomfortably against the hips that kept ramming into him.

Tears forming in the corners of his eyes, America forced himself to clamp hard onto Ivan's cock. He figured that when he came, then America would be left alone. Even though it hurt his pride more, he started moving against the Russian, trying to bring him closer and closer to orgasm.

"Mmm, that's right, my little slut. Make your master feel nice, like the good little bitch you are. You belong to me now, and don't you ever forget that. There won't be any getting away; no 'war of Independence' to save you, either." And with that, Russia climaxed, his seed mixing with the blood already deep in his ass hole. Ivan could tell by the relaxing of America's body that he thought it was finished.

He pulled out and got off the bed, leaving Alfred laying there, exhausted. When he came back, he had a very large dildo in his hand, almost rivalling his own size. "Now the fun starts." Russia said, waving the fake dick in the air. He gave it a long lick before thrusting it into the already-abused hole. "I wonder how far this will go in?"

America bit his lip hard as the toy was pushed into his loose, semen-and-blood lubricated hole. He was still in immense pain, and the only thing keeping him from passing out was that if he did, Russia probably wouldn't hesitate to kill him. Forcing himself not to look at his still gushing hand, instead he looked at the wall in front of him. In order to keep the weight off his hand, he had angled himself so his chest was on the bed, unconsciously giving Ivan a better angle to pierce him with the dildo.

As much as he didn't want to think about it, what the Russian had said struck him right to the core. What if he was right about not being able to fight his way out of here? Did that mean he would forever be condemned to being Ivan's little pet - his little bitch- content to sit at his 'master's' feet, doing whatever was asked of him? It certainly felt true as Russia continued to force the toy inside him.

Still pushing the dildo in the bleeding hole, Ivan smiled. "It's indeed going in very far." He pushed on it with all his might, and it sunk in till it was barely visible. There was a whimper from America as more blood seeped out. Russia bent down, and licked it. There was an intake of breath, and a cry as his victim came, just from his butt being played with. "What a slut you are."

Shivering slightly as the toy was taken out, Alfred collapsed on the bed. The pain combined with his orgasm had removed what little energy he had. He could tell that Russia was smirking down on him because of his sudden release. In his mind, he started criticizing his body for being so lewd. Ivan had already figured out he was a bit of a masochist; he didn't need to abuse the fact. But, Russia being himself would most likely continued to do so. After all, he wouldn't be able to use his right hand for anything for at least the next month, not to mention the fact that sitting would now be a literal pain in the ass.

Alfred cradled his hand against his chest as he curled up on his side. He forced himself to look up at Russia, giving him the strongest glare he could muster with his limited energy. "Braginski..." he muttered darkly, leaving his sentence hanging.

Russia got off the bed and walked out of the room, leaving the door open. He had things to do, after all. He had to order an attack on Germany, tell France to stop crying over England, and get Lithuania to prove he was man enough to be on his side. He didn't have time to look after his pet. What did he care if America didn't know how to bandage his own wounds?

Still clutching his hand, America sat up - leaning as to aggravate his butt more- as he watched Russia leave the room. Was he just going to leave him here? After all that he did? All the other times, even when it was America's own fault, Ivan had bandaged his wounds. This was probably the worse of them yet, except for the brand.

"Russia!" He called out, hoping to get his attention. He really didn't want to stand up, but if it was for the sake of getting his hand treated...

Slowly, he stood up, wincing from the sharp blast of pain. A few more drops of blood fell onto the floor as he steadied himself on shaking legs. "Russia, where are you going? Aren't you going to take care of me?"


	9. Chapter 9

Ivan stopped walking and waited for Alfred to catch up. It took quite a while, considering he was waddling the whole way. "And why should I do that? It is not _my _hand that was stabbed. You are my bitch, but that in no way requires me to help you heal. I have work to do." He once again walked away, but slowly, knowing he would be stopped once again.

Leaning against the wall, Alfred called out to Russia. "Yeah but... It will get infected! What happens if it falls off?! Then I won't be able to..." he stopped, not quite sure what would be the most detrimental thing about not being able to use his right hand ever again. Sure, he wouldn't be able to write or play sports but there were also other _needs_ that only his right hand would work for.

Smiling, Russia said, "What, you don't _really_ need your right hand for anything important, do you? I'm sure your left hand would do." His knowing smile was punctuated by him taking a step nearer the other nation. "Well, if you insist, I will bandage it and make sure it does not get infected. On one condition."

America swallowed quietly. "Condition? What is it? Have sex with you?" America stopped himself before he could say 'Oh wait, I forgot, you just fucking raped me!'. It definitely wasn't a good time to be picking fights, as much as he wanted to.

"But why would I make that deal, when I can have sex with you whenever I wish? No, I want you to say something. Because I can not force words from physical means, they have to be achieved in more deliberate and scheming ways. Especially from you, my dear Alfred. You, who delights in resisting me." Reaching out a hand, Ivan took America's chin in his hand and brought it close so he could whisper in his ear. "I want you, to say that you love me."

Automatically, Alfred's spine stiffened, his body in shock. He couldn't think for a moment as Russia's breath played dangerously over his ear and neck, leaving his body covering in goosebumps. This was way below the belt. How could America say _that_ to someone he so obviously disliked? What would Ivan gain from him saying it after all? He had already violated his body, forced him to torture one of the few people he truly loved, messed with his mind countless times and he wanted him to tell him _he loved him!?!_

"What's the point if it's not true?" he asked quietly, unnerved at just how close their faces were. The malevolent gleam in his hard amethyst eyes told America just how much he was enjoying the situation.

Still smiling his evil smile, Ivan responded. "If it is not true, then it will mean nothing, and you should have no problem saying it." The look in America's eyes said he was thinking it over, but would need some more persuading. He carefully picked up his right hand. "Such a nice hand. It will be a pity cut it off so the infection does not spread to your entire body and kill you slowly. You won't need aesthetic for that, would you? After all, you made it through the stitches remarkably well."

He quickly looked down to their feet. 'Russia's right... for once.' America thought. 'Since it's not true, then it won't be hard to say it.... Then why does it feel so weird?' He took his hand from Russia's grasp, pulling it to his naked body again.

Glowering up at Ivan, his blue eyes hard as ice, America mumbled. "Fine then.... I...love you... Now can you bandage my hand up?"

Cupping his ear, Russia said in an obnoxious voice, "What? I didn't hear you. You will have to speak up. Also, properly address the person you are talking to. You would think England would teach you manners."

Narrowing his eyes, his continued to glare through his somewhat grimy glasses. "I love you Russia.... _Now_ can you?"

"A normal admittance of love would use ones true name. Calling me Russia when saying you love me... I would never call you America if I told you I loved you. It's a thing of respect, really. And stop mumbling, you are such a teenager."

America growled deep in his throat. "Dammit!" he yelled in the other's face. "I love you _Ivan_" Alfred focused all his rage into the man's name, disgusted with himself. Really, had he fallen so far that he had to resort to not just begging, but professing _love_ to his sworn enemy? "Now make sure I don't loose my hand, bastard!"

In America's rage, Russia was sure he hadn't heard the small noise of the button on his recorder click as it was turned off. "Well, I suppose that will do. Now let us go to the medical room. I will have to disinfect it, of course, but I will not use alcohol this time. It will still sting, but there is no getting around that. I estimate it will take quite a long time to heal, given the severity of the wound. Oh, and I suppose you would like to put on some clothes. But you may do that after I treat your hand."

He quickly looked at his still naked body then back to Russia. Clothes would be nice, but he had already been fully unclothed in front of Ivan before, and he never felt too uncomfortable about it in general. Also, if he was to complain, Russia might make him do something else to get his hand treated as well as something to get his clothes back. Instead, he just kept his mouth shut as he followed the Russian upstairs to the medical room.

As they went up the stairs, Alfred gazed at his hand that had started throbbing annoyingly. It had mostly stopped bleeding and it had started to heal. It was going to be a long time before he was going to even imagine using it again. If he was lucky, it would heal fine and he'd be able to use it without any problems.

Being careful to not hurt America much more than was necessary, Ivan disinfected his hand and bandaged it up. The blood soaked through, and it would need changing soon, but that would have to do. "And I'm sure it will be a nice, pretty scar that you can show off. Because I'm sure you wouldn't want to drop your pants in front of people to show them your butt. And you can tell them that your lover gave it to you!" He smiled, and Alfred gave an exasperated look and left, going to his room, still without a door.

Alfred sighed again as he reached his room upon remembering that he didn't have a door anymore. 'Not that I had any privacy in the first place...' he grumbled, grabbing the few clothes he had in his closet. Being extremely careful for his hand, he slipped a shirt on, making sure it didn't catch on his stitches. His butt was still extremely sore so underwear and pants were out of the question. He then lay down on his bed slowly, resting on his stomach and closing his eyes. This day was definitely long enough.

.oOo.

Ivan thrust his fingers in Alfred's entrance. He hadn't done anything bad that day, so he got preparation and lube. The other country moaned in discomfort, his butt still sore from the day before. When he felt his partner was sufficiently stretched, Russia took out his fingers and replaced them with his cock, blood seeping out from a reopened tear. "Ya, you like having something up there, don't you? Dirty whore." Then he took the pair of scissors beside him, and cut the knots on the threads in America's arm. "But we have to get these stitches out, since you have healed." Then he violently ripped out the first thread, much more quickly than any doctor would.

America had woken up groggily as soon as he felt something in his ass moving around, stretching him wide. Groaning, he looked over his shoulder only to see Russia hovering over him, his fingers ripping open his wounds from yesterday. Even though he was being raped again, he felt slightly glad that at least this time Ivan prepared him and used lube. When his cock entered him for the second time in less then twenty-four hours, Alfred's eyes shot open. Then, Ivan had ripped out one of his stitches from his arm, ripping the sensitive skin.

Right then, Alfred decided he didn't really feel like being raped again. As another stitch was pulled and Russia started to move, he quickly pushed up with his left hand and his legs, confusing Ivan for a moment and made a break for freedom.

"Either way, your stitches need to be taken out!" Russia yelled after him, and then added to himself, "I just though I would distract him from it." He got up and went in the direction Alfred had gone. The hallway was deserted. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." He said under his breath. Hide and Seek, such a childish game, but so fun. Once, someone tried hiding in the iron maiden he had downstairs. Ivan won that game, since the man had screamed when he fell on the spikes.

The best way to play Hide and Seek is when you know all the hiding places. Russia had been living here much longer than America, so it was safe to say that he knew all the hiding places. Of course, knowing Alfred, he would pick the worst one possible. Hard to get out of, and easy to find.

As soon as he ran away, America was surprised that Ivan hadn't even attempted to stop him, only opting to yell out at him. Blood dripping out of him a bit, he ran downstairs to the kitchen. He had been here long enough. It was definitely time to get out of here but there was one thing stopping him: Russia. No Russia, and he was free to go. He just prayed that it would work.

He quickly looked through the drawers for what he was looking for; Ah, there it was. Grabbing the object, he ran back upstairs, extremely glad that he didn't run into Ivan. Sneaking into another guest bedroom (that he _knew_ was never used from the type of guests Russia usually had over), he hid in the closet; right hand against his racing heart, left holding onto the object.

Seconds turned into minutes as America stood in the closet, heart beating wildly. Hiding had never been his forte. Sneaking around and attacking people had always been more of his idea of fun as a child. It also didn't help that when he used to play with Canada, he would always find him because he could never stay still long enough. But when it came for America to look for him, it was almost like he had disappeared completely.

After checking under all the beds, Russia heard some harsh breathing coming from a closet. A definite 'F' for Hide and Seek. But what fun was playing if he didn't play with his captive? So, instead of opening the door, he decided to take a chair, and hit the door with it, making a loud crash. He heard a stifled yell from inside.

'Shit...' Alfred thought. Russia had obviously found him. If he was going to attack, he should at least have the slightly-upper hand. Slowly opening the closet door, he was automatically greeted by Ivan's wide grin.

Poking his head out of the closet, he looked at Russia, staying silent. He made sure that he couldn't see the weapon in his hand.

"That was fun. But you should really let me take out the stitches. The bandage on your hand also needs changing." Ivan opened the closet door wider, revealing all of the person hiding behind.

Hiding the carving knife behind his back, he flipped it so he was now holding it perpendicular to his arm. "I don't need your help. Especially since you're not going to be here much longer." Pausing for a second, Alfred continued. "Say hello to Satan for me when you get to hell!" With that, he brought up his left arm, aiming to stab the double-tipped knife straight into Russia's emotionless heart.

Fast as lightening, Russia grabbed the hand that was trying to kill him and held it there. "If only you could have used your right hand, that laughable attempt at assassination may have worked." He squeezed the wrist, forcing Alfred's hand to open and drop the knife. Then he pulled his would-be-murderer close and whispered in his ear, "But have you forgotten that you will never get away from here? That you still don't know how to fly the helicopter out there without gassing yourself?" He ripped the last few stitches out, tearing the skin. America let out a whimper, but Ivan forced him to follow. "This morning, I gave you a new door." He said, as he threw his prisoner in his own room. "Have fun staying in there for the next week.' With that, the new steel door slammed shut, and the large Russian locked it with three different locks.

America stayed on the floor, staring at the metal door for a moment. In here... For a week? He was going to starve! How did Russia expect him to survive! True, he did have a bathroom so he was able to drink from the sink, but no food for a week? As if on cue, his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since he tried stealing the helicopter.

Now he really was screwed; literally and figuratively. Without food, he could starve to death, killing himself as well as his country. Even if he was able to eat somehow, he was still stuck in his room for a week, and with what he had done so far he was amazed it wasn't longer.

The only thing that had continued to bother him was what Russia had been saying about being his bitch. Sure, he was stuck here, but whenever Ivan had tried making him do something, he had always fought against it. Yes, he was punished for it, but it still made him feel as if he had even a sliver of a chance to one day escape. The helicopter was the first big blow that had almost extinguished any hope he had to leave without Russia allowing him to. Now though, after trying to kill him, he fully realized just how pathetic and weak he really was becoming. Was there really going to be a day where he did what ever Ivan asked without any hint of sticking up for himself? No, he was America, home of the free and the brave. Although freedom seemed to be a far off goal at this point, it would take way more to break his idealistic mind. At least, that's what he made himself believe.

He got up and banged his fist against the door in a hopeless attempt to get Ivan's attention. Giving up after a few seconds, Alfred went into the bathroom and started up a bath. After all, if he was stuck in here for the next week, he might as well relax and clean up all the blood that was on him.


	10. Chapter 10

Yes, today was the last day of America's confinement. It still gave Ivan time to get into his helicopter and fly off. He would be back in time. He wasn't going to the other side of the world, after all.

After he picked up his passenger, they set off, going back to his mansion. "I'm terribly sorry we must have this meeting at my house, but there are things I must look after, I hope you understand."

"Yes, of course. You must be busy." the man in the next seat said, looking out the window. "This really is a beautiful country, the way the snow glistens in the sun like that."

"Thank you, I think so too." Russia smiled, keeping his attention on piloting the helicopter. "I must say, I was mildly surprised to receive your letter."

"I thought it would be best to send it now. Before it was too late." The passenger gave a small laugh. "Sorry to sound so imposing like that." He was obviously nervous, but given the circumstances, most people would be. Russia had that affect on people.

"It is not imposing when it is true. We should arrive in a few minutes. I am sure it will be nice to get out of this helicopter for you. I would guess you don't ride many."

"No, I have only ridden in a few, actually. But this is the first time I have been in a Russian one."

They landed, and Ivan stepped out. He went to the other side to open the door for his guest, acting the part of the gracious host. "The snow is a little deep here. But I am sure you are used to that," He looked up at the man when he said his name, "Matthew."

The blond shook his wavy hair. "Yes, I am quite used to snow. Although it seems a little different here than at home."

They walked together to the door. Ivan looked up at America's window, seeing the enraged captive there. He smiled and gave a little wave behind Canada's back. When they got inside, Russia took Matthew's coat. "We may talk in this room." The room in question was on the ground floor, and had a few comfy chairs and a coffee table.

"Not the typical room to do business in." Canada commented quietly.

"But I consider you a friend, and this is a much more comfortable room than my office. Please, sit." He motioned to one of the chairs, and took one opposite it. "So, what is this about?" Even though he already knew, it seemed a good conversation starter.

"I would- Well first of all, I would like to make sure my brother is alright."

"He is perfectly fine. The only thing worrying me is that when I am away, he tends not to eat properly, but as I have heard, he has never eaten properly. Hamburgers and all. But when I left, he was going to have a nap, so I assume he is still asleep."

"Oh, yes, he does eat bad food. Um, another issue is, is it true... that he... joined you?" Matthew asked, cringing slightly, afraid that his question would anger the Russian.

Instead, Ivan's smile grew wider. He passed over a picture. When the other northern nation saw it, he gasped. Russia explained. "He did that as proof of his loyalty. I told him that he didn't have to, but our dear Alfred insisted." He took back the picture of America's brand, taken when he was unconscious.

"But-but, your personalities... and ideals, they are so different!" Canada covered his mouth at his sudden outburst, but continued more quietly when Russia motioned him to do so. "Why would he join you, when he wants such different things?" He couldn't meet Ivan's eyes as he said this.

"Matthew, you should hear something." Russia took out a small recorder and played what was saved. They both heard Alfred's voice coming through the speaker.

"I... love you... I love you, Russia. I love you _Ivan_!" Russia pressed the _off_ button, and looked to Canada, who sat there, stunned.

"You see, Alfred and I, we now have a relationship. It's true, we started off enemies, but some times enemies make the best lovers." He put the recorder back in his pocket.

"Oh..." Canada stayed silent for a moment, thinking through what he had just heard. Ivan smiled, not at all phased by the lies he was telling.

"So, on to the main purpose of this meeting." Russia said, waking up his guest from his stupor.

"Right. Now, as you know, my country hasn't," Matthew's voice caught for a second, emotions clear on his face, "hasn't been doing well. And I think it would be best... if it is alright with you, of course, if I joined forces with you." The pain at having to say those words ate at his heart, but Canada was strong. This was for the good of his people. It was already clear that without the American super power, Russia was quickly gaining the upper hand in battle. Also, it seemed that both his parents and now his brother had already joined. It was the only option left to the nation.

Opening up his arms in welcome, Ivan smiled. "I would be happy for you to join me, Canada. How about we celebrate! I'll get some vodka."

.oOo.

When they went outside back to the helicopter, Alfred could not be seen in his window. Obviously he was pounding at the door, trying to get out of steel.

Canada had trouble getting into the cockpit, not as used to the strong alcohol as Russia. He giggled slightly when the taller country helped him up. "You are surely a gentleman, Ivan."

Any normal human would not be able to fly after consuming as much vodka as had the Russian, but his tolerance was so high that the helicopter did not shake once during the whole flight, there and back. When he got home, it was already dark.

As soon as he was up the stairs, he heard banging coming from America's room.

America watched with his mouth agape as Russia returned to the mansion with Canada in tow. "That lying, two-faced, manipulative ass hole!" he yelled at the window as said person gave him a small wave from behind his brother. He pounded on the window with his left hand, trying desperately to get Matthew's attention. "Matthew!! Look up!" he continued to yell, but to no avail. They both went into the house, leaving him to look out at the pitch black helicopter in the middle of a desert of blinding white snow.

Refusing to give up, he went to the door and banged on it. A few minutes later though, he sank to the floor; his butt protesting at the uncomfortable treatment. Looking down to his hand that he had wrapped up in one of his shirts after the bandage had become soaked with blood, he mumbled softly. "He wasn't supposed to get you involved Matthew... I'm sorry bro..."

At this point in his punishment, his stomach had hurt for so long because of the lack of food that he had barely even noticed it. His butt was still uncomfortable though, and yellowing bruises adorned his hips and waist. By now, the brand had completely scabbed over and had actually started to peel, revealing smooth shiny skin from what America could see in the mirror in the bathroom. "First England, now Canada," he muttered to himself again, standing up once more. He was weak from the lack of food, so banging on the door and window had sapped what little energy he had.

Stumbling to his bed, he flopped onto it stomach first. Alfred wanted to know what was happening to Matthew, but there was no way he was going to get out of his room until Ivan let him. Instead, he slipped into a fretful sleep, waking up at sunset. He quickly stood up, stumbling a bit in the process and looked out the window. The helicopter was still there, so it must mean that Russia had taken Canada as a prisoner.

He went over to the door and started hitting it again, wanting Russia to come back and explain. First of all, he had promised not to harm or in anyway mess with Matthew. Also, he was pretty damn sure he had been locked in his room without food for a solid week now, and he wanted out. "Russia! What the hell are you doing!" he yelled before the door started to open, leaving him somewhat shocked.

"There is food downstairs." Russia said, knowing that was possibly the last thing on America's mind right now. He wondered how long he would wait to eat, with the knowledge that he could have food at any time. "There is also vodka, if you would-"

"I don't care about the fucking food! What the hell did you do to Matthew?! I thought you promised not to do anything to him or England!" America grabbed onto Ivan's coat weakly. Yes, his stomach was in knots, but finding out why Russia lied to him after keeping his promises to the exact word so far was definitely more important.

Russia pulled Alfred's hand off of him and said in a calm voice, "The promise did not include if they came of their own free will. Not only that, but he _asked_ to come here."

"Y-What?! Like he'd _ask_ to come here! You had to have forced him!" Alfred sank to the floor, unable to keep himself standing with the little energy he had. "Is he in the same room England was in?" he asked quietly, his eyes still glinting.

"No, he isn't in the same room. Of course I wouldn't put a guest in there. Because he _did_ come here of his own free will, if you believe it or not." Ivan bent down so he was looking America right in the eye. "He came here... to join me."

America's felt his heart almost stop as Russia finished talking. It seemed as if a deafening silence had pressed itself onto him, making him unable to hear if Ivan was saying anything else. Canada joined... Russia? Why Russia? "Why you?" America repeated out loud, holding onto his head. "Why you, and not England, France and all the other countries!" _They could have joined together and defeated you!_ he thought savagely.

"Well, of course that would be because dear Francis and Arthur have also joined me. The world is not what it used to be. I am gaining power, and soon every country will either join me, or parish." He stood up and turned around. "I thought you deserved something good to eat after everything, so there is a hamburger for you waiting in the kitchen. I never would touch the thing, but I understand you are rather fond of them."

Alfred looked to the ground as Russia left him to his own devices. He was really nervous for the well-being of Canada (Not to mention England, but at least this proved that he was still alive) because he was most likely still in this prison of a house. After about a minute though, his starving stomach gave a particularly large stab of pain at the thought of actually being able to have one of his delicious, god-like hamburgers again. Just the thought of the taste of the hot, greasy burger was making him salivate. Since he hadn't eaten for so long, the thought was all the more tempting, urging him to stand and make his way to the kitchen. Yes, he wanted to make sure Matthew was ok, but if he was starving and weak, he couldn't do anything anyways.


	11. Chapter 11

The closer he got to the kitchen, the easier he could sense the enticing smell wafting from the God-sent food. When he could finally see it though, he had pretty much collapsed from exhaustion. He had used all his power that he saved up by hitting the window and door and when yelling at Russia. The hamburger was sitting innocently on the counter, cooling off more and more every second as America walked toward it. Without a second thought, he all but inhaled it, relishing its unadulterated pure-American taste.

With the burger only satisfying the tip of the hunger-iceberg, Alfred looked hurriedly around the kitchen. After inhaling four slices of bread, an apple, a chunk of cheese and a hunk of cooked meat, he looked behind him at Russia who was sitting on a barstool, smiling over at him.

"That seems to be a lot of food for one who's stomach has surely shrunk so much." Of course, he had made sure there was more than enough food there for America to completely engorge himself on. Ivan smiled, watching the others face turn a positively green colour.

Without thinking, America turned behind him and threw up all that he had just eaten into the sink. He dry retched again, his stomach getting rid of all the food. Quickly, he washed the barely digested food down the sink and then rinsed his mouth out. Shakily, he raised a hand and wiped off his mouth, going back to the fridge to look for more food. America was disappointed that he had wasted the only burger he had in a while (and after that scheme, it would probably be his last) but that he had not been able to eat as much as his body wanted. Instead, he grabbed another slice of bread and nibbled on it as he got some more food to eat at a more leisurely pace. Since Russia was here with him, it wouldn't be possible to go off looking for Matthew because he'd know exactly what he was doing.

Ivan smiled, watching the idiot eat his bread. He never stopped to think anything through, just jumping in to any situation with all his energy. Of course, that was the part of Alfred that Russia liked so much. Because, without that, it wouldn't be half as fun to break him.

"Well, for someone who just found out they were betrayed by their own brother, you seem to be quite content."

Finishing the bread, Alfred swallowed thickly. How did the Russian always know how to push his buttons? They _had_ in fact pretty much betrayed him, but he wasn't going to let Ivan know that's what he felt. "He didn't _betray_ me... He just... He's just waiting for the opportune moment" He started eating another weird piece of meat, urging himself not to think of what it probably was. Sitting on another stool opposite of Ivan, he stared up at him. "Tell me where Matthew -and Arthur- is."

"Arthur is safe in a hospital. I'm not entirely sure where Matthew is, to tell you the truth. He is not sick in bed, and I certainly didn't tie him up anywhere." Russia walked out of the room with that. He liked leaving things vague. So much easier to play with people that way.

Alfred felt a weight lift from his heart. At least he knew now that England didn't freeze to death in the middle of nowhere. Finland and Sweden were most likely taking care of him now, so everything was going to be fine with him. _Not to mention the fact that he along with __France__ and __Canada__ joined up with __Russia__..._ a voice in the back of his mind decided to bring up again. Pushing all bad thoughts aside, America's stomach growled loudly as he finished the meat.

He stood up, pushing the stool aside. Now that Ivan was gone, he was free to check out all the creepy rooms in the basement. If he wasn't in there, then he might as well check the guest rooms too. America started walking toward the door to the basement, his nerves on edge. It wouldn't be for the best if Russia was to see him going down there again. After all, whenever he went down there, he always seemed to get punished somehow.

Opening the door quietly, Alfred slipped into the stairway. As he descended, he was thinking of things to ask Canada. First of all, he wanted to now what had possessed him and the others to actually join his enemy. Like he had thought before, if they joined together instead of with Russia, then they could have risen above him and helped to free America so that he could defeat the cold, maniacal bastard. Also, even though he talked to Lithuania for a bit before about it -_what happened to him anyways?_- he wanted Matthew to tell him more about the world and his country. Every day America could feel his strength slowly dissipating; No doubt because his people were slowly dying out.

At the end of the stairs, he went to the first door on the right and opened it. America's stomach dropped as he saw the furnace and chains. This was the room that he was branded in. Shaking his head, he closed the door and went to the one across from it, even more desperate to find his brother. The next room had an assortment of objects that Alfred never wanted to know what they were used for. He continued doing this for the next few doors, getting past the one he found Lithuania in as well as where he was raped. Matthew was no where to be found.

Still looking, he opened one of the doors, only to almost jump out of his skin upon seeing Russia in the room, but no Canada.

"Looks like you have found my playroom!" Ivan said, a big smile on his face. He walked over to a large clamp on a table. "Would you like me to tell you about these things?" He motioned to the other objects in the room, all looking deadly. "This clamp is for the head. You would put a person's head in it, and then simply clamp it down. Usually, the teeth imploded into their sockets and smash the surrounding jaw bones. Then the eyes squirt from their sockets and finally, brain matter squirts from the ears. An all around interesting way to die." He walked over to a plank like thing with straps and a crank, ignoring America's horrified expression. "I'm sure you have heard of this. It is called The Rack. You strap someone in, and when you crank this, it stretches them out. A painful way to make yourself taller, I am sure. And this over here is quite the opposite. It would squish a person so small that it quickly caused acute muscular cramps in the guts and forced blood from the nose and ears." The next thing he walked to was a chair... with small spikes everywhere, and clamps for the legs, arms and chest. "Now, this is one chair you wouldn't want to sit in. You see, the spikes are long enough to break the skin, but they don't puncture any vital organs. Also, they plug up the flow of blood, so it takes a very long time for the victim to die. In other models, you can put a fire under it to bring it to scorching temperatures!" His smile wavered for a second. "Sadly, this was hardly used. If a criminal learned that this was their fate, many of them committed suicide."

Alfred shook his head slightly as Ivan tried to explain more. "I really don't want to know about this..." He continued looking around the room, eyeing all the dangerous and downright painful looking devices. Yes, he had certain methods in his own country, but the majority of them promised instant death. On one of them, there was a suspicious dark stain on it, making America's already agitated stomach rumble more. "Tell me where Matthew is." America demanded, looking up at Russia's joyful face.

"Well, for that, and interrupting my speech, you will have to give me your body. I have gone a whole week without sex, you see, and it has always been my dream to have such sexual pleasures in this room." He walked over to a stockade. "With the other in this thing."

Stepping back a few steps, America scowled. "Yeah right! I'm not letting you rape me; never mind in _that_ thing. At least let me see him then so I know he's fine. It was a part of the original promise, which I already reciprocated for." He watching silently as Ivan opened the contraption on its hinge; the wood it was made of looked rough under Russia's pale hands.

"I assure you, he is fine. The original promise said nothing of you seeing him or making sure he is fine, just that he remains so. And, I have not yet broken a single promise, so you should assume that I have not broken this one. I haven't used this for years!" Russia said, looking intently at his torture device. Although, it was not so much the device itself that made it torturous. It was what the people, sun and animals did to you when you were in it that made it feared by everyone. Some people even died in it!

"Prove it." Alfred stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest. If he was going to be raped, he should at least know that Matthew was safe. "After all," he started, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile, "assuming just makes an ass outta you and me."

"I will tell you afterwards. So if you really wish to know where he is, I suggest you bend over and place your wrists and neck in here. I assure you, this is simply for restraint, and not torture directly. And since there are no peasants to throw stones at you, it is safe."

Staying in the doorway for a few moments, America begrudgingly walked toward where Russia was waiting. He had somewhat realized that if he didn't fight -or at least didn't fight until Russia forced him- he would be spared somewhat. Before he allowed himself to be placed in it, Alfred looked up at Russia's eyes. "Promise me then that you'll tell me afterwards."

"I completely promise to tell you where Matthew is afterwards." Then Ivan took his captives hands and put them in the cut out divots, and then his neck. It was closed, and locked. Then he slipped off Alfred's pants, having a nice view of the brand.

America barely had time to react as his wrists and neck were efficiently locked into place. The wood had already started to chafe his skin and he had barely moved around. Feeling Russia's gaze on his butt, Alfred clenched his fists for a second. "So are you going to get on with it or what? Pervert." He added under his breath.

"If you insist." Russia said, and inserted two of his fingers, twisting them slightly. He heard Alfred gasp, but kept at it, scissoring them to make room for the third. When that one was properly entered, he roughly thrust in and out, the friction hot without lube. He heard America cry out when he hit his prostate. "Who is the pervert now?" He said, taking his fingers out, and replacing them with his cock.

The burning of Russia's fingers was nothing compared to the white hot blast of pain as he thrust into America with his large, un-lubricated cock. Alfred had already thought it through somewhat, so he waited for Ivan to set a rhythm before rocking slightly against the rapid movements. As with last time, he had started to bleed; the blood causing everything to slick up and move faster and deeper.

"The prisoners would sometimes be raped when they were in the stockade, you know." Russia started saying between thrusts. "With this position, I am sure it was planned this way. It is just too tempting." He licked America's neck, flicking his tongue in his ear. "It doesn't even require them to - drop the soap."

America grit his teeth at Ivan's actions, not allowing himself to make a sound. Hopefully, unlike last time, if he was to finish quickly, then maybe Russia would tell America where Matthew was and he could go and have a warm bath. His neck and wrists were starting to rub raw and bleed slightly. From all the movement, his right hand had started throbbing again even though it had scabbed over.  
Putting his pride to the side, Alfred increased the speed of his reverse thrusts, impaling himself further. Even though he wouldn't admit it, it was just his second full time and he was already getting used to the girth of Russia's manhood in his previously virgin hole. Once more, he figured by moving, it would help push Russia over the edge that much sooner.

"You are such a naughty boy, Alfred, you really are." Ivan said, continuing to slam into the responding body. Then, he pulled all the way out, his cock leaving America's ass hole. After about three seconds, he entered again, more vigorously. Alfred thrust himself onto his shaft again, and once more Russia pulled out, only to enter a few seconds later. He did this a few more times. The last time he did it, the other country snapped.

"What are you doing?! Stop going all the way out!" America yelled, blood trailing down his legs and dripping with audible _plops_ on the floor.

"So, you want me to stay inside you? If you wish." Ivan stayed inside his victim, thrusting deep every time, hearing America's body slam against the board. "You are such a good little bitch." He wrapped his arm around Alfred, grabbing his cock with one skillful hand. "I suppose, with your right hand like that, you have not had a chance to do this in a while."

Wincing, Alfred barely managed to say. "...Bastard..." before moaning from his hard, dripping cock finally being touched. Like last time -as so many things were- he was embarrassed from how his body reacted to being treated so roughly by the Russian. "You're the one that did that." America panted out, his glasses fogging up from his body heat.

Thrusting even harder, matching his hand with his hips, Ivan smiled. "I would not have done that if it was not for you rebelling. You should not rebel, then I would have hardly any reason to hurt you, beside the obvious fun it is." With his free hand, he reached down to where his cock was disappearing into America, and grabbed on to the blond's ass, sticking in his thumb beside his shaft.

America gasped loudly as Ivan's thumb forced its way into his already stretched hole. "Take it out!" he yelled, trying to reach back with his leg to try trip Russia to get him to stop.

"Just be glad I'm not getting the dildo you loved so much last time and fuck you with it at the same time." He gave a laugh when he added, "Or use The Pear on you."

"The what?" Alfred groaned out, thrusting into Ivan's hand and in turn onto his cock. Even if Russia finished and did use the toy on him, at least it will be just it, not both.

"The Pear. It's shaped like a pear, and is inserted in the mouth, anus or vagina, depending on your gender. Once in, it can be cranked open to an unbelievable size. The Catholic church used to use it on homosexuals." Ivan dug his fingernails into America's hips. "People usually died of infection, because they were rarely cleaned."

Biting his lip, America continued to rock, his body getting bruised against the wooden stockade and his skin starting to bleed freely. With a muted moan and a final shudder, Alfred released hard, sending ribbons of white onto Russia's hand and the floor. As soon as he was done, he relaxed, allowing Ivan to grab onto his hips fiercer and bury himself deeper.

Thrusting even deeper, close to his end, Russia brought his hand up and licked some of the cum off. And then he was shooting his own seed deep inside Alfred. He pulled out, seeing blood and semen leaking out. And then, even though it was no part of the promise, unlocked his fuck-partner.

As quick as his sore butt allowed him, Alfred stood up away from Russia and the device, touching his bleeding, raw wrists and neck delicately. "You got your half of the deal, now I want mine. Tell me where he is!"

Russia started walking to the door. "Oh, I dropped him off at his house hours ago. Where did you think I got the hamburger?" He continued walking, hearing America's cries of anger.

"What!? You... You ass hole!" America fumed for a second before following Russia. He really didn't want to be left in the room. Knowing Ivan, he would leave him in there on purpose, waiting for him to use one of the devices. "Why didn't you say so before! I let you rape me for nothing!" he spat out, some of the blood and cum mixture oozing down his thighs.

_So he really _did_ join with __Russia__..._ he thought, feeling as if a knife had plunged into his heart. _Matthew honestly did betray me..._

"You never asked me if he was in this house, or his own. You asked if he was in the room England was in, and you asked where he was. I, however, do not know where he is. He could be half way around the world by now. He has my resources at his disposal, since he joined me. He has a very nice signature, by the way. Very delicate. Would you like to see it?" Ivan continued walking. He got to the stairs and stopped. "Of course, you have probably seen it, considering how much you pushed him around. I'm sure he was made to sign many contracts with you." He continued walking.

"So you raped me over a _technicality_?!? That's low even for you." He continued to follow Russia, his mind making it impossible for him to leave the communist alone. "At least let me see him if he comes back again, ok? I shouldn't have to do anything to see my fucking brother." America was so enraged that he had completely overlooked the obvious blow to his pride.

Grabbing onto Ivan's coat, Alfred watched at he turned around; a strange, unnameable emotion flickering in his eyes. "Or would you rather have your toy die?" He asked, whispering.

Russia gave a loud laugh that lasted a few minutes. When he was done, he wiped a small tear from the corner of his eye, still giggling. "Oh, that was funny. Do you actually think you matter that much?" He bent down so he was looking America right in the eye. "If you die, there is an endless supply of toys. If you die, any promises made become void. Having your brother as a pet might be fun. He would do whatever I wish. And if I want to really play with someone, I'm sure Arthur would be very inventive with his insults. More than yourself, obviously. Any insults you come up with are just a string of swear words. When I rule the world, I could have a new toy every day of the week! You were just convenient."

Glaring at Russia, America stuck out his bottom lip slightly in defiance. He waited as Russia stood up fully again before crossing his arms. "You're lying. If you wanted them, you would have taken them before the promise." In his mind, he was furiously trying to believe it was the truth. He kept his gaze on Russia's face to see if any notion of his comment being true showed across it. Alfred waited a few uncomfortable moments for Russia to say something; Anything.

"Your train of thought is very interesting. But if I truly wanted them, I could take them. A promise made with one's pet holds no weight. I choose to keep my promise with you. Yes, I could have any toy I wish. But it is fun to break the once all powerful America. But I would also not mind seeing your dead body and showing it to the world. Showing them the hole I raped, showing the butt I claimed as mine. Or you could arrange it so I never find the body. Let Arthur and Matthew worry about you for years before finally accepting the fact that you are dead. Perhaps they will join you in the land of the dead, not able to go on without you. You could have a party! But, perhaps I will kill them anyway. As I said, when you die, all promises are erased."

Alfred's eye twitched at everything he had said. Unfortunately it had seemed like the truth. The only option left for him was to do as Russia said and hope to God that he didn't decide not to uphold his promise. "... Fine then." he grunted, looking down at their feet because he was unable to meet those burning, violet eyes. "Just... Never mind. I have my people to live for." he stopped himself before he could say 'And Matthew and Arthur'.

"That's the spirit!" Russia patted him on the back and walked to his own room. Time for some more paperwork. Maybe after he can play some more...


	12. Chapter 12

America had woken up slowly in his bed, still somewhat lethargic from the large meal Russia had made for them both last night. It had been another week of him not being bothered by the giant man, so that in itself was an accomplishment. Standing up silently, he stretched; the dull clunks of his bones setting travelling through the room. He then went into the bathroom to brush away his morning breath. As he looked in the mirror, he started checking over his injuries: His raw neck and wrist had scabbed over, making it somewhat painful to bend them. His hand had almost healed since he could now create a fist without cringing, and the brand was still as shiny and eerily smooth as ever.

Still going over his abundant injuries, the only thing that had bothered Alfred somewhat was the fact that his butt was pulsing slightly. The only time it felt that sore had been when Russia had raped him... Furrowing his brow as he brushed his teeth savagely, America started trying to recall last night. He remembered Russia telling him he made a large meal and invited him to eat the extras, then doing so and not bothering to moderate himself (After all, when else was Russia going to give him such good food again? And it wasn't like he was going to throw it up this time). He continued going through the memories of the meal, when they suddenly stopped after half-remembering falling onto Russia and having him carry Alfred to his bed because he had grown so tired.

'Wait.' Alfred thought hurriedly. 'Does that mean he poisoned the food? Then _raped_ me?!' He stood shock still for a moment, only breaking out of his stupor in order to spit out the toothpaste. It made sense, since he had become extremely tired after eating -though at the time he had passed it off as just eating too much when he wasn't used to it-, and now his ass had started twinging. The only thing was that he had no idea what to do about it. Well, there was one thing, but it seemed to be on the extreme, even for him. But if that's what he had to do to save himself; then so be it.

Now the only thing was should he mention it to Russia that he knew, or keep it a secret and just refuse to eat whatever the Russian tried giving him to eat. Telling him might make him angrier and then decide to rape him right then and there, or it could make him become more devious and use smaller amounts in everything in order to lull him into a false sense of security. But on the other hand, not telling him could just make him continue doing what he was doing now, and maybe still just rape him randomly. Either way it seemed, his ass was literally on the line.

"Argh it's too difficult to figure out how his mind works!" America growled, going back out to his room after going to the bathroom. He pulled on a pair of underwear and pants, not quite realizing that it didn't hurt as much as it did the last two times to do so. Thinking it over for a second, he grabbed his jacket as well. If he was stuck here with nothing better to do, he might as well go have what little fun he could. Shrugging it on, he went out of his room, sliding the heavy metal door closed.

Once downstairs, he went to open the large door after putting boots on, only to stop. Smiling slightly, he went to the closet, grabbing a scarf that looked somewhat like Ivan's. His smile turning into a slight smirk, he then went outside, laying the scarf on the mat outside after he shut the door again.

A few minutes after being outside, America had made a large snowman that had rivalled his own height. Stepping back to admire it for a second, he then grabbed the scarf and put it on it, its eyes made of rocks and two arms from branches of a large evergreen. Grinning this time, he went back a few feet to where he had created a snow barricade and a pile of snowballs. Kneeling behind it, he threw the snowballs one by one viciously; the snowballs either sticking to the snowman or taking off chunks of it. "Take that you fucking commie." he said, watching the snowman start to deteriorate. As they said, 'if you can't beat them, join them. And if that still didn't work, beat the shit out of something that looked like them'.

"Well, at least your aim is good." Russia said, standing right behind Alfred. The creator and destroyer of the snowman whirled around in surprise. He was obviously too enthralled in his activities to have noticed the model for his snow creation. "But there is a snow storm coming. Unless you wish a very cold grave, I suggest you come inside now." He started walking away, hearing the crunching snow as America followed him. "You know, I have heard that it is a very pleasant way to die. Freezing to death that is."

"Yeah, how so? Try it yourself?" America snarled, still shaken from Russia suddenly appearing behind him. By now, he would have though he would be used to it. Now that he wasn't intent on destroying the Russia-snowman, he had noticed that his pant legs had soaked through and were freezing. He waited behind as Russia opened the door, his coat that he always seemed to wear blowing behind him slightly as the warm air rushed out.

"I heard it first hand." Ivan closed the door behind America, locking the snow outside. And, the windows were all shut. Well, _most_ of them. "Breakfast is on the table. Here, let me take your wet clothes. I have already eaten."

Alfred's stomach sank as he rethought about his plan. Hopefully Russia would be gone for enough time for him to eat something else instead. Looking down, he watched himself undo the button on his jeans and slip them off, placing them in Ivan's cold, white hands. Without waiting for him to leave, America walked into the kitchen and saw the warm breakfast sitting on the table. It was still steaming, so it was difficult for him not to eat it, but if it was either a warm breakfast or not to get raped, it wasn't such a difficult thing to reject it. He quickly looking in the fridge and grabbed an apple, scarfing it down so that Ivan wouldn't know.

When he returned from hanging up America's wet clothes, Ivan found his pet sitting in the kitchen, his plate cleaned. "Alfred, today I plan to clean the house. As you can see, I have no maids, so I do it, but would you be so kind to help me?" There was a slight edge in his voice that hinted that if the offer was declined, there could be consequences.

Looking at his plate once more, Alfred thought about it. "...I guess." He stood up, pushing aside the chair and placing the dishes in the dishwasher. He was glad that it had taken Russia some time to take his clothes away because it had given him enough time to throw the delicious looking yet most likely drugged food away. Walking over to Russia, he looked up at his face, still slightly unnerved at the childlike, innocent smile on his face. Anyone that knew Ivan _knew_ that it wasn't nearly as innocent as it looked.

They both started cleaning, not really talking through it all. At lunch, Russia made some food for Alfred, but wasn't hungry himself, so continued cleaning. Since it was such a big house, they continued after lunch.

"Well, thank you for your help, America. You may return to your room."

"Thanks..." Not waiting for Ivan to try and get him to stop, America all but ran up the stairs to get back to his room. Even though the house was insanely large, they had cleaned the vast majority of it, thus giving him a nice overview of the rooms. Even more so then when he had looked around by himself for a way out. Now he definitely knew that Toris wasn't lying when he said that there was no way out except if Russia let you go.

As he put his hand on the door, Alfred noticed that the metal was unusually cold. Sliding the door open, his jaw dropped. Just as Russia had said, there was indeed a snowstorm, but his window had been opened and the snow had started to pile up inside of his room. Unable to think of anything else to do, he went to go find Russia.

Looking in his room, he saw his large frame hunched over his desk doing paperwork or something once more. "There is _snow_ in my room!" he yelled, not even bothering to get his attention first.

"Really? That is odd. Perhaps a window was open, and the storm blew it all in." He got up to check, and it was indeed full of snow. He turned around and smiled at Alfred. "I suppose you will just have to sleep with me tonight!"

"Yeah right! I'll just sleep in one of the guest rooms." Alfred said quickly, rubbing his arms. "It's not like they're ever used anyways." So that he wouldn't have to talk anymore, he went into his room, making a path through the already-deep snow in order to shut the window. With the wind pushing against it, it took a few moments for the window to finally close, leaving the rest of the snow outside where it should be.

Russia was standing at the door. "Well, unfortunately, I decided that today I would wash all the blankets and sheets on the guest beds. It seemed like a good idea, considering there was no one using them. It will take at least a day for them to dry properly. So, unless you wish to sleep without a blanket after a snow storm, with the heating turned off to save power, my bed is the only place you can sleep." He gave a deep sigh, and shook his head in mock grief.

America shook his head, refusing the possibility. "Just turn the heat on then. Better yet, I'll sleep in front of the fire place. You can go molest someone else if you're so desperate." The snow had already started to melt, turning into slush. Swiftly, America started brushing the heavy snow off his bed, trying to save it from the worst of the damage.

"Hm, yes, good idea. I'm sure hardly any snow got in the fire place, making the wood wet. You should be able to light it. Well, goodnight. I hope you don't get hypothermia." Russia walked away into his room, and went into his king size bed. He left the door open.

Avidly still trying to remove the snow, he gave up as he realized he had no way to get it off the floor. The only way it would go was to wait for it to melt. Still not bending to Russia's will, he held his head high as he walked past Russia's room to the stairs and up to the large fireplace he had slept in front of before. Looking around the room for any fire wood, he inwardly cursed the fact that Russia had been right. There was no wood in the room, and the rest of it was stacked outside, bare to the elements and thus soaking wet.

"I can't sleep with him! He'll rape me in my sleep again!" Alfred muttered to himself, pacing back and forth; forgetting the fact he was above Russia's head at the moment. Pouting like a child, he sat on the floor, his arms crossed. Thirty minutes passed and he was curled in a ball, shivering uncontrollably. Yes, sharing a bed with his 'captor' was bad, but dying because he was being immature seemed worse. Not that he thought of it that way.

Making his way back downstairs, he went over to Russia's door timidly, cursing the floor and its infernal squeaking. When he peeked his head in the open door, he saw Russia lying on his back, looking at the ceiling. With a deep breath, Alfred pretty much stomped his way to the side of the bed Russia was furthest from, threw the covers to the side, lay down and curled up into a ball; all the while keeping the farthest from Ivan as physically possible in a king sized bed. "I'm not doing this cause I wanna..." Alfred mumbled, facing away from Russia. "Just promise not to molest me and I'll try not to kick you in the nuts while I'm asleep."

Russia smiled. "I would never dream of such a thing." With that, he rolled over and went to sleep, knowing that his bed-mate would be up all night, terrified at every single sound in the room.

After Russia rolled over, America had curled up tighter. He really didn't want to be there, but it was better than freezing for no reason. Still shivering slightly, the body heat that Ivan was emitting was highly inviting, but he would have to stoop down even lower to actually take advantage of it. Instead, he stayed to the side, rubbing his arms slightly to warm up.

The night continued to pass by slowly, every little sound America heard sending a shock of adrenaline through him. There was no way he was going to get a good night sleep. Since Russia was facing away from him, he couldn't tell if he was actually sleeping or pretending to be asleep. If he was just pretending, he was probably waiting for Alfred to fall asleep then molest him; even though he said he wouldn't.

As the night slowly passed, there was one thing that started to bother America more about the situation. He couldn't remember opening his window _ever_, never mind enough for the snow to get in. Maybe he had opened it slightly sometime without remembering and the wind had opened it more. But somehow that just didn't seem plausible. Russia could have opened it, which would make sense considering the predicament he was in at the moment. But it wouldn't be a smart move to ask him about it, after all, giving out punishments to Alfred seemed to be his favourite pass time.

Slowly but surely, the sun had started to rise, America's night being filled with fitful sleep and strange dreams. He had become extremely drained from shivering for most of the night then not being able to sleep from the awkward circumstance. It was only a few moments till he finally fell into a somewhat decent sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

When Russia woke up, he found a curled up Alfred clutching his arm, millimetres away. He smiled, looking at the sleeping face. Touching a pale cheek, Ivan felt that it was ice cold. Then the other stirred slightly in his sleep, and held his tormentors arm closer to his body. If only there were a camera in the room, Russia thought.

When the American woke up, he jumped, realizing who he had been cuddling up to. "Good morning, Alfred."

America scrambled out of the bed, touching his cheek with his hand after realizing just what had touched it. Standing there, he just stared down at Russia, his face slowly turning red. He did _not_ just wake up while clutching onto his 'captor's' arm like it was a life line. Still staring, Alfred stayed still, unsure of what to say. "Uh... Morning."

"What, no good morning kiss? I'm disappointed." Russia frowned, but then smiled his usual smile. "Well, I shall go make breakfast now. Come down when you are ready." He got up and walked to the door.

Just as he started to follow, his stomach rumbled at the same time he remembered his plan. If Russia was putting drugs in his food and raping him while he was out, making food for him would be the perfect way to do so. Instead, he decided to check up on his room. He quickly made his way out of Ivan's room, pushing the memories of waking up latched onto him deep in his mind.

Opening his door, the first thing he had noticed was that the door was the same temperature of the air, so there wasn't any more snow inside. Even though there was no new snow, the snow that was inside before had long ago turned into water and seeped into his bed and into the wooden floor. 'Great...' he thought soberly. At least he could try to get his blanket dry... He could just sleep on one of the extra beds. The bedding should be dry by now, right?

Figuring he should try to at least _pretend_ that he was eating the food that Russia was giving him, Alfred made his way downstairs, thinking of ways he could get his room cleaned up again so he wouldn't have to sleep in the same bed as Russia ever again. After all, he did it once and it was already threatening to give him nightmares along with those of the world being destroyed and being raped in his sleep.

When he reached the kitchen, he stayed unnaturally silent, watching Russia make something for him to eat; Why would he drug himself anyways?

Finished making eggs and toast, Russia put down the plate in front of America and sat down opposite him. "I hope you like it." He said, and bit into an apple. "I myself don't like eggs, so feel free to eat them all." His gaze pierced into Alfred's eyes, a twinkle in them, always smirking.

Looking at the plate in front of him, Alfred swallowed. He really wanted to eat them, but the possibility of being raped again was making his stomach unsettled. Maybe if he only ate a bit, he would be fine because it wouldn't be all of the drug. Hesitantly, he picked up a fork and brought some to his mouth, chewing on it a bit before swallowing slowly. It didn't taste like anything weird was in it. But who was to say that he didn't just make up his own tasteless drug? Russia did have a bunch of rooms in the basement; maybe one was a twisted chemistry lab. He continued taking small bites, trying to trick his stomach into thinking he was eating more than he really was. The only way America could get more food that was probably safe was by sneaking back to the kitchen when Russia wasn't around or when he was holed up in his room doing paperwork or making threatening phone calls.

Russia watched as Alfred continued taking the smallest bits possible. "Why, are you not feeling well? You have eaten hardly anything!" He walked over and put his hand on America's forehead, feeling his temperature. He gave a smirk when the other one jumped when he was suddenly so near. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever. But I should get a thermometer, just in case." He walked upstairs, heading to the medical room.

America waited for Russia to walk away before quickly getting up, grabbing the plate and putting the eggs in the sink so Russia wouldn't find them. The toast he scarfed down, hoping to God there was nothing on them. Then he looked through the fridge quickly, eating a few baby carrots and some more mystery meat. He then hurried back to his seat, making it look as if he had finished all his breakfast.

When Russia came back down with a thermometer, he saw America at the sink, who turned around lightning fast. "I have the thermometer, Alfred." The other country opened his mouth, but Ivan shook his head. "That is not where this thermometer goes, Alfred."

"Uh yeah it does. You aren't putting it in my ass." America pressed himself harder against the sink as Russia proceeded toward him, holding the thermometer with a gleam in his eyes. His hands gripped the edge of the counter as he progressively got closer. "I'm fine anyways. You don't need to check my temperature."

"If you are feeling fine, then why is there egg in the sink? Your plate looks like it was scraped clean, not eaten. I can see no other reason for you not to eat, other than you being sick." Ivan pinned America to the sink and undid his pants, while the other was struggling to get away. Once they were down far enough, he turned Alfred around so he was facing the sink. "You shouldn't have a problem with this anyways. The thermometer is much smaller than _me_." And with that, Ivan put the thermometer in America's hole.

America hung his head in embarrassment as the thermometer was placed inside him, Russia holding onto the end of it lightly. Yes, it was extremely smaller than the Russian, but that wasn't why he didn't want to do it. He knew the real reason he was doing it was because he just wanted to humiliate Alfred more, and he was doing a damn good job at doing it.

As much as he wanted to run away from Ivan and lock himself in his room, he also knew that doing so would just create more problems down the road. After all, thinking back onto all his other –at the time- genius schemes had only ended up with him getting into more pain and trouble. At this point in the 'game' it seemed best just to play along.

After a minute, Ivan took out the thermometer and looked at it. "Well, it all seems normal. But you should eat full meals." Then he started cleaning up, staying around the kitchen till lunch.

While Russia cleaned around the kitchen, America had made his way up back to his room to wait till lunch. Now that he had become aware that Alfred hadn't been eating everything he made for him, it was going to become more difficult to keep being able to eat.

At the same time, Alfred thought, it might be a good way to kill two birds with one stone. If he wasn't able to eat, then he was sure as hell not going to just start eating the drugged food Russia so 'lovingly' prepared for him. Instead, he would have to have to resort to more drastic measures and hope for the best.

Without anything better to do, America lay on his bed and slowly drifted off to sleep. He jerked awake a few hours later after hearing Russia's voice from his door.

"Lunch is ready. I have already eaten mine, but make sure you eat it all. We wouldn't want you withering away, now would we?" Ivan left and went to his room, waiting for the perfect minute.

As Russia left, Alfred scrambled up off his bed and followed him at a distance until he turned into his room; the floor never once groaning in protest. Yet, as he passed the room, looking in as he did so, the floor let out a squeak, causing Ivan to look out at him and smile slightly.

Trying to keep it from bothering him, he continued down the hallway to the stairs and into the kitchen. There on the counter was a plate with a sandwich on it. Not even bothering to sit, he grabbed the sandwich and threw it in the sink, running water on it and shoving it frantically down the drain; making sure it wasn't obvious that he did so.

Ivan ruffled some papers on his desk, organizing it. When he finished it, he went downstairs to see America putting everything down the drain. "Once again, you are not eating? If you do not eat supper, I will have to force you to eat it." He shook his head and shooed Alfred away.

Without responding, he walked out of the kitchen, hoping furiously he wouldn't stay to watch America eat dinner. He was totally aware of what he was doing, so staying alone seemed unlikely. Alfred just hoped being 'forced' to eat wasn't what his brain was thinking. But since it was Russia, it was most likely going to be it.

Not tired enough to have another nap, Alfred decided that he might as well try to entertain himself somehow. He had already tried going outside, but that had already ended badly. He could go to the library and read... And since there was nothing better to do, he figured he might as well.

Once he was upstairs in the library, he grabbed a book off the shelf at random; well, as random as he could while picking out the few in English. Flopping down on the large reading chair with it, he opened to the first page, sighing as he saw it was a collection of journal entries from a British man that had been held captive during the Anglo-Russian war of 1807. With a sick twist in his stomach, America kept reading; his emotions being played from the irony of the situation.

Continuing to read, he couldn't help but sympathize with the nameless soldier. After all, he was in just as unfortunate situation as the entries portrayed him being. But, unlike Alfred, he probably wasn't made to believe in false promises and white lies.

Since he had become so engrossed in the man's story, he had hardly noticed as the sun started the fall, making the lighting inappropriate for reading. He reached behind him for the lamp, looking up slightly and jumping as he saw Russia leaning in the doorway. That man was as silent as death.

"I never picked you for a reader, Alfred. Dinner is ready." Ivan walked away, hearing America follow behind. "And I shall be eating with you, tonight. I made stew." He kept talking as they got closer to the kitchen. "Many people like my stew. You see, I add a secret ingredient that I discovered myself."

'Secret ingredient? So the bastard _is_ putting poison in it!' Alfred thought savagely. Even with the cold-hard evidence, he continued to follow Russia, staying true to the idea of 'rebel now, even worse pain later'. Thinking more about it, if he was forced to eat it and did pass out, at least he would be unconscious when he was raped. He would only have to deal with the throbbing pain and dried blood mixed with cum afterwards.

America wasn't ready to give up so easily though. Sure, he didn't want to be punished more, but he was most likely going to be raped either way. He might as well try and stand for what he and his country believed in as he did so –no matter how difficult it was becoming with each passing day.

He silently sat down at the bowl set out for him, the scraping of the chair on the floor echoing through the eerily silent room. Ivan just gave a fake-sweet smile as he picked up his own spoon, taking a sip of the broth he prepared.

"You had better eat it while it is hot. After all, even if my stew is very good, it loses its appeal after it has gotten cold." Russia ate more of the stew, savouring the taste of seal meat. He smirked at his 'guest' on the other side of the table.

"I'm not eating it." America said blandly, crossing his arms. Russia had eaten some, but who was to say he didn't only drug his portion?

The large Russian stood up suddenly. "You have eaten practically nothing all day. You must eat something, Alfred. You are simply acting like a spoilt child." There was no smirk on his face as he grabbed America by the shirt and made him stand. Then he started walking to the dinning room, dragging his prisoner behind him. When they got to the dinning room with the large table in it, Ivan picked up the protesting American and placed him on the table, lying on his back. "Time for you to eat something."

"I already said: I'm not eating, especially if you made it." Alfred started to get up only to be pushed back down with more force; knocking the wind out of him slightly.

Grabbing rope that was under the table, Russia started tying America's limbs to the legs of the table, holding him down the whole time. "You will not have the choice to eat it or not."


	14. Chapter 14

Straining against the bonds for a moment, America stopped as soon as he saw what was in the Russian's hands that he got from beneath the table. It was a strange looking 'device', but he couldn't tell what it was for. Even though he couldn't tell what it was, he knew it had too many leather straps to be anything good.

There were also two metal clamps, bent out to the sides. They were both smooth, as he got to see up close as Russia brought it to his mouth.

He placed the clamp in America's mouth, being careful to not get bitten when he put them under the teeth. When he secured the leather straps, the clamps opened his mouth up wide. "We wouldn't want you biting things that are not meant to be bitten, now would we?" Alfred made a few gurgling sounds from the back of his throat, obviously trying to say something. Ivan took out a long, plastic tube that was about half an inch wide. "So that we won't have any accidents with you not swallowing and then choking to death."

America's eyes went as wide as his mouth as Russia brandished the tube that was curled around his hand slightly. He tried in vain to twist free from his bonds, only to tighten them more and make Ivan's eyes glitter with joy at seeing his 'prey' struggle.

His Adam's apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed. Russia had grabbed his chin roughly, making it so he couldn't turn his head at all and brought the tip of the tube to his mouth. Rubbing Alfred's chin slightly with his thumb, he then started pushing the tube to the back of his throat, making him gag.

"I wouldn't move your head, if I were you. After all, we would not want your throat to tear." Russia continued pushing the tube into America's mouth, it going down with limited resistance because he had put some olive oil on it previously. Alfred continued gagging on it, even more, the farther it went down his oesophagus. "Only a little longer, dear Alfred." Russia stopped when enough of the tubing had disappeared so that he knew it was either very close to or in America's stomach. Then he stood up. "Oh, silly me. I don't have the food yet! I'll just go get it." And he got up, heading to the kitchen, leaving Alfred on the table.

Still gagging around the thick tube, Alfred started gasping for breath, the tubing making it harder to do so. He tried thrashing around again, only to stop as he soon found that it made it more difficult for him to continue breathing and swallowing.

The slight fear that had started to course through his body as Russia was in the kitchen had started making him sweat. Both his hand and his butt had started to tingle from mock-pain at the memories of both events that came rushing back. His hand had pretty much healed save for the scab while the brand was completely healed as much as it would. Nothing but getting burnt again would remove the mark signifying him as Russia's 'property'.

When Russia entered the room again, he had a funnel in one hand and a blender filled with murky sludge in the other.

"It is a good thing I made stew. It's not thick, so it should go down nice and easily." He then put the funnel into the end of the tube and started pouring the liquid down it. "Can you feel it? Still nice and _hot_." America started struggling once again, his throat burning at the steaming fluids being poured down it. While making sure not to spill any, Russia bent down and kissed Alfred on his forehead. "You truly are cute, you know."

As soon as the lid on the blender was lifted, America's eyes had widened again when steam rose from it. It was going to burn him from the inside out! He tried to scream only to whimper softly at the feeling of the burning liquid scorching its way down the plastic tube. One good thing about it being so warm was that the tube was softening and it was becoming easier to breathe except for the uncomfortable feeling of being singed.

Alfred shivered slightly as Russia bent down and kissed his forehead. How dare he try and be _nice_. If he wanted to be nice, he would let him go and fight fairly. But, as with most things he did, it was Russia.

Tears started to form in his eyes as his stomach slowly started to expand. He was long past comfortably full, even for his burger-guzzling self. The burning feeling had also caused him to sweat even more.

Finally the blender was empty. "Good job, Alfred, you finished it!" Russia slowly took out the long tube, liquid dripping from it. Then he undid the leather straps, letting America talk as much as he wanted.

As soon as the contraption was off, Alfred rubbed the side of his mouth on his shoulder. "Bastard... I was fine _without_ that." Still tied down, he settled for just glaring up at his smirking 'captor'.

"Well, when you don't eat, I must do such things." Then he let America's arms and legs go. He sat up and started rubbing his wrist. Russia smiled. "Not going to throw a punch?"

Not bothering to look up at him, America just started to rub his chest and throat, trying to soothe the strange pain. Next he felt his mouth, along where the metal pulled at the skin. Even though he tried not to think of it, he couldn't help but realize that Russia could have done a lot worse to him.

Finally, curiosity won over and he looked up at the Russian. Just as he pictured, his trademark smile was on his face; its fake sweetness burning America's mind every slow second he stared at it. Slowly but surely, it started pushing him over the edge.

"Well, you look tired." Russia quickly slid an arm under Alfred's legs and behind his back, and lifted him up. "Which room will you stay in tonight? Unless you wish to sleep with me again, considering how you were latched onto me this morning." He walked out of the dinning room, carrying America like a baby.

"I don't need your help." Alfred snapped quietly, kicking slightly. At the same time, he elbowed Russia in the chest, hoping for him to let him go. "I can still walk by myself."

Not one to give up easily, Ivan continued holding America, even tighter than before. He walked upstairs and opened a door to a guest room at random. He dropped Alfred on it lightly. "I will go and get your bedding. It is most likely dry by now."

Alfred stayed on the bed, shivering slightly not from cold but from nerves. Russia had him just where he wanted. There was no chance of escaping and he could do little more than sit and wait for Russia to decide when and what the next punishment was. Even fighting back had started causing more trouble for him.

As his mind continued to spiral, America unconsciously started running his fingers over the thick scab on his hand. It was a solemn reminder that he was unable to leave, unable to fight, unable to further embody the promise of his country. America was no longer the home of the brave and the free, but instead of cowardice and enslavement.

.oOo.

Where was America? Ivan looked up from his work, realizing he had not heard a peep from him for a couple hours. He was obviously still in his room; because there had been no tell-tail squeak signalling he was out and about.

It did not annoy the large country so much; it was just that he was bored. It had been four uneventful days since the feeding. Alfred's room had dried out, so he had moved back in, but beside that he had made no trouble. Nothing deserving of punishment, at least.

He got up from behind his desk and went to the room two doors down. Russia peered in to see his prisoner doubled over in pain, lying in bed. He was clutching his stomach, groaning slightly.

Even though he couldn't tell when the large Russian was going to make and impromptu visit, America knew that he had one more shot at freedom, no matter how small it was.

For a few days –he had lost count; time meant nothing in his prison- he had kept himself in his room for the most part, waiting for Russia to check up on him and see why he was being so passive.

Most of the time he was lying bent at the waist on his bed, ready to feign injury. It didn't matter what it was, as long as it seemed serious enough to need to go to a hospital with registered doctors.

America was lucky as Russia looked into his room and he started to groan softly, hoping to gain his attention. He really doubted his plan, but he really had nothing better to try.

Ivan walked in, looking at the in-pain America. "Where does it hurt?" The other country groaned once more, clutching his stomach. "Hm, it is probably appendicitis. You will need your appendix removed." He felt Alfred's stomach, judging on the amount of groaning he did. "Luckily for you, I have done the operation multiple times!"

"What? No! I need to go to a hospital! You don't have the right stuff to do it!" America all but yelled, making sure to groan at appropriate intervals. After all, he was 'sick' with appendicitis. He pushed Russia away, making sure to show how 'weak' he had become.

"Come now, do you think you could make the travel? A helicopter isn't the smoothest ride, and the nearest hospital is pretty far away. Besides, I have very good supplies here for operations. You will be fine." He carefully picked up the groaning man and carried him to the medical room, who was faintly protesting. "Trust me, Alfred. Unless you wish to die, you will have to go through this. It will be over before you realize."

"I can make it! Please, just try at least." Alfred voiced a groan then continued, steeling his mind for his next comment. "You said yourself it didn't matter if I died."

"I never said such a thing! Of course it matters if you die. There would be the effort of hiding the body, after all. And, to tell you the truth, I do love performing operations. Just the feel of having your hands immersed in warm blood, living organs pulsing between your fingers, is just sublime. Much better than flying a helicopter." They made it to the medical room, and he put America on the hard table. "Must I tie you down once again?"

Alarmed that his plan had backfired on him, America just shook his head. Poking his stomach, he gave Russia his trademark smile – broken trademark smile, but his all the while- and said "It doesn't seem like you have to. It must have just been gas. I'm fine now; you don't have to do the surgery."

The widening grin on Russia's face told him otherwise.

"We have to hurry, then. Usually, when it stops hurting, it is about to rupture." He took the restraints and tied down his patient. "I will have to give you an IV." Russia took out a bag with clear liquid in it and a line attached. First, he swabbed the area, and then stuck the needle into one of the veins in Alfred's arm.

Cringing at the sharp pain, Alfred continued to try and persuade Russia that he was fine. "Seriously, I feel better already; see?" he asked, sucking his stomach in forcefully. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his body as he worried about just what Russia was planning.

"I would rather not take the chance. Your body does not need it anyway, so we might as well take it out. I am giving you morphine, so you will start to feel strange." Ivan started sterilizing his tools after putting the morphine in the IV. When he was finished, he washed up, and put sterilized clothes on. Infection wouldn't be good, after all.

Ignoring the lazy buzz invading the back of his mind slowly, America shook his head again, pulling against the bonds. "If you're going to do this, then when are you going to give me sleeping gas?" Russia was right, saying he didn't need his appendix. But it didn't mean he needed the pain that went along with the operation.

"Oh, sleeping gas is something we don't have here." Russia said, like he was talking about the weather. He turned around, an evil smile on his face. "I'm afraid you will have to go through this... completely aware of everything that is going on."


	15. Chapter 15

"No!" America tried to yell. His body stiffened as Russia continued setting up various tools for the procedure. "You can't! Just... Please..." he started, turning his head away from the Russian. The morphine had started invading his mind, making him feel lethargic and allowing him to only be able to pull at the bonds half-heartedly. This was definitely not what he had wanted to happen for his plan. Instead of being able to make a run for it in a hospital somewhere else (probably in Russia, but it was still better than the mansion) he had to deal with Ivan's insane bloodlust.

"You, my dear, have no choice." Ivan undid the buttons on America's shirt, revealing the skin beneath. "You have morphine, so you should be fine." He took the scalpel and smiled, bringing it to the white flesh. He cut in and a line of red appeared. Alfred started yelling, his drug-infected mind not able to make up complete sentences.

Although he knew he should be in immense pain, all Alfred could feel was a flare of pain wash through his body, almost as if in slow motion. The morphine was definitely helping, but it didn't completely stop the ache as he looked down to see his blood pooling on his stomach.

He wanted to yell out to Russia about just how stupid it –and he- was doing this without him being put under, but he couldn't get his mouth to form proper words due to the mixture of drugs and pain. Instead, he just managed to groan, his voice echoing in the white, sterile room.

Trying in vain to get his arms free to push Russia away, he could do nothing more than watch as Russia finished cutting through the layers of skin and fat to his pulsing innards.

Finding the appendix was easy, because Ivan had done it a few other times. Then he started cutting it away, noting America's grunts of pain. When it was cut, he held it up triumphantly. "There, a nice appendix. Nothing wrong with it, actually." He then finished up by stitching the incision. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

It took the last of his will power not to try and get out of the restraints or to look down at the stitched up gash on the right side of his stomach. He had known that nothing was wrong with anything in the first place, since he had made it up.

Because of the intense, thick pain that had been shooting up his spine for the last half hour had seized, his body was now incredibly numb to the point were he barely felt Russia cleaning up the blood off of him. "Lie..." he mumbled out, unable to speak any louder.

Russia watched as his patient fell asleep on the hard table. Ivan rolled it to America's room and put it right next to the bed, then moved him over so he was on the bed, not the table. Then he went downstairs, to the front door. He took of the sterilized clothes and threw on his coat, going to the helicopter outside.

When he returned, and hour later, it was with a slightly-reluctant Lithuania.

"W-why do you want me here, Ivan?" He asked, hesitant and polite.

"My pet needs a nurse, and you are perfect for the job." They went up to Alfred's room and found him just waking up. "Well, America, I have brought you someone to look after you."

Groaning quietly, America opened his eyes slightly to find himself back in his room. He still had the IV in his arm, a saline solution dripping slowly into his bloodstream. His eyes were still haft-mast when he saw Russia in the doorway with... Was that Lithuania? Why was he here again?

"...Toris?" he managed to mumble. Alfred hissed at the pain that came from his stomach when he tried to sit up to look at the two of them better.

"You better stay still, Alfred." Russia said, smiling at the idiot trying to sit. "Well, I have much I need to do, so have fun, you two." With that, Russia left them together.

Lithuania walked to the bed quietly. "What... what happened to you?"

Alfred winced again as he lay back down. "Nothing... It was just," he looked towards the door, "An accident, I guess." Now that the morphine was filtered from his body, the pain had turned from a thick, blanketing type to sharp and shooting. He was still tired, but he fought to keep awake so that he could talk to Lithuania.

Lithuania just looked down at him, his dark blue eyes deep with worry. "Please Alfred, let me see." Without waiting for him to consent, he lifted up the blanket and sheet to see the ugly, stitched gash on America's side.

Gasping lightly, Toris gazed at the wound. "Did he...?" he asked, leaving his question hanging. It was obvious who he was talking about.

"Like I said..." America murmured, his eyes drooping shut, "an accident. I didn't need it."

"I'm sorry Alfred..." Lithuania apologized, placing the blankets back on top of Alfred gently.

He just smiled slightly and looked up at the older man. "S'not your fault."

"But," he continued, a slightly lighter tone entering his voice, "at least he has had practice. It doesn't seem like it took too long; and the cut looks even."

America's half-smile slid into a frown. "Practise?" Even though he was tired, he perked up slightly from Toris' words.

"Yes. Even though it doesn't feel as though you are, you are lucky Alfred. Ivan wasn't as skilled with me." And with that, Lithuania lifted his shirt to show America the long, jagged scar in the same area as his fresh one.

"Toris..." Alfred said shakily, reaching up a weak hand to touch the vile scar. Before he reached it though, Lithuania had grabbed it in both of his hands and placed it back next to him.

"Do not worry about me. The past is in the past. What you do have to concentrate on is getting better quickly, so please rest. I can tell that you are tired." Lithuania checked the bag of fluid hanging upside down. "I will bring you some bandages and painkillers. I will try my best to get you some more morphine for the pain. Also, you won't be able to eat or drink for a couple of days, so please do not drink any water." He continued talking unaware until he had noticed that America had once again fallen asleep.

When Lithuania had been at Russia's mansion so many months ago, he had seen what he always remembered Alfred as being: loud, energetic and always ready to face the next challenge. Even though he had barely talked to America so far, he could already tell that his spirit was crushed by Ivan. It had taken longer than all his previous 'pets', but he had still ended up breaking it.

Since his patient was asleep, Lithuania didn't feel bad when he left him to go to the medical room to gather supplies. He would need a lot of antibacterial creams and painkillers; knowing so from first-hand experience. He took a couple more bags of the saline solution as well as some other items that would come in handy.

Before he turned around to leave the room and return to America, Toris heard the minuscule sounds of Russia approaching. Turning around, Lithuania looked down at his feet, hands clasped in front of him. "Hello Ivan."

Russia gave a loud sigh. "Have I not told you? When I am greeted by you, I wish to be greeted in the proper fashion, Toris. I tire of speaking English."

"Здравствуите..." He bowed his head down further, his hair falling in front of his hard gaze.

"Much better." Ivan put his arm around Lithuania's shoulder, like they were old friends. "So, how have you been doing? Your brothers are doing fine, I hope." Toris nodded slightly, and then Russia continued. "Well, I hope you take good care of your patient."

"Yes, I mean, да." Toris corrected himself as Russia narrowed his eyes. "If you would excuse me though, I must dress his wounds as soon as possible." He waited patiently for Russia to take his arm off of him. As soon as it was gone, he gathered up the supplies and walked to the door.

As Lithuania was walking away, Ivan watched in silent amusement. Many people would consider it more difficult to control two toys, but Russia just felt it made things more fun.

When Lithuania got to America's door, he contemplated knocking for a second before thinking better of it. After all, he would wake him up and it would stop him from healing quicker. Opening the heavy metal door as silently as he could, Lithuania could feel Russia watching him. Years of being around the larger man had made him fine tuned to what he was doing and feeling.

Slipping inside, Toris shut the door behind him and placed all the supplies on the table next to America's still sleeping body. Even sleeping Alfred's face showed that he was tortured not only physically but mentally as well; tearing himself down from the inside out. He had seen it happen with Latvia before he and Estonia could help restore the small scrap of self-esteem he held now. Getting that shred of confidence had taken them years longer than it took to put him in such a state.

America, unfortunately, was in no better position. He originally was much stronger-willed than Raivis, but he had suffered longer and to a deeper extent mentally. Being around Russia so long had helped Toris clue in to just how severe Alfred was.

Lithuania just sighed to himself as he started getting the bandage ready. Once more, he knew just how painful it was just to breathe even for the first twenty-four hours. When it was ready, he peeled back the blanket on top of America, who winced at the shifting; his stitches catching a bit. His eyebrows furrowing slightly with worry, Toris lightly placed the bandage with the antibacterial cream on the wound. America groaned in his sleep, tossing his head to the side.

Manoeuvring carefully, Lithuania then grabbed onto Alfred's back and lifted it just enough to pass the gauze underneath him to wrap it around. Working slow enough not to hurt, but quick enough not to put stress on the wound, Toris then wrapped the bandage on, using medical tape to keep it on. Hopefully when his patient woke up, he would be feeling better enough to maybe to go the bathroom.

.oOo.

A few days had gone past and America had almost completely healed. He was still in pain if he moved around too much, but he could now eat softer solid foods and drink as much liquids as he wanted. Lithuania had taken care of him the entire time, only leaving his side to sleep on the small cot Russia had set up in Alfred's room for him or to get more supplies.

While taking care of the main wound, Toris had also attended to the multiple other scars across his body. The one on his hand had seemed the newest other than the superficial scabs on both wrists and his throat; two matching scabs on either side of his right hand that made Lithuania suspect it was stabbed clean through. The one on his left shoulder had seemed old enough to have taken care of itself, but with a little help had slowly went from an angry, red mark to a pale white line. The brand on his butt had seemed to be the oldest, yet the worse. The skin was not properly cared for while it was healing so it had flaked a lot, but the majority was now shiny and smooth.

"Hey Toris, what's this weird greeny-white stuff?" America asked loudly, pointing down to the stitches on his stomach. "It doesn't look too good."

Lithuania broke out of his reverie when Alfred started talking, so he went over to him. "Oh, it's probably just pus. You might have a bit of an infection. I must have forgotten the cream after we took off your bandage." He said as he examined it. "If you take some penicillin it should go away by tomorrow." And with that, he left to get the medicine.

The next day, instead of the pus disappearing, it had slowly started to ooze out of Alfred's wound, making the sheets dirty and causing him to have to start wearing a bandage again. Lithuania wasn't as worried for America as he was worried that Russia would find out that he had failed at taking care of Alfred and making sure he healed properly. He would have to wash the sheets and dry them so that he wouldn't know.

"I'll be back soon. You just continue to sleep to help your body fight off the infection. I will wash the sheets for you."

"Are you sure? I could help." Alfred offered, starting to stand up.

"No, you need rest. If Ivan sees them he will wonder what happened to you so I must hurry." He bundled up the sheets and went out the door, quickly making his way to the laundry room. As with most things to do with Ivan, he knew when he did laundry along with most other things, but it didn't mean he might change his schedule to check up on America and himself.

Lithuania started placing them inside the washer, hoping furiously that today wasn't one of the days Ivan decided to change up his plans just to mess up Toris' mind schedule for him. He just got everything set up and turned on as he turned around, only to be face to chest with the same person Lithuania had begged not to see.

"Well, what have we here?" Russia walked in the room and looked at the sheet, automatically noticing the puss stain. "Does my pet have an infection?"

Lithuania gasped slightly and backed away. "It really is nothing bad, I assure you. He – he will be fine when it heals." He smiled faintly, hoping everything would turn out alright.

"But I took you here to be his nurse, not give him an infection." Ivan shook his head with mock sadness. "I am afraid you will need to be punished."

"N-no! Please, Ivan, I will take better care of him!"

The merciless man grabbed Toris by the wrist in a vice-like grip. He started dragging him out of the room, but stopped on the way to grab something from a cabinet. Then he brought him to America's room.

* * *

Alright, translation! So, When Lithuania says Здравствуите, that is a polite form of Hello, and is pronounced as Zdrah-stvooy-tyeh. Obviously, Да means yes, and is pronounced Da.


	16. Chapter 16

"N-no! Please, Ivan, I will take better care of him!"

The merciless man grabbed Toris by the wrist in a vice-like grip. He started dragging him out of the room, but stopped on the way to grab something from a cabinet. Then he brought him to America's room.

Toris knew better than to struggle, so he just let Russia's merciless grip pull him along to Alfred's room. Whatever he was planning to do though, Lithuania hoped it would only be to him, and America would be left out.

When they got to the door, Ivan had opened it and took them both inside to see America laying on his back idly, looking up at the ceiling. As he saw the two enter his room, he sat up slowly, putting his glasses –they really couldn't be called Texas anymore- on his face.

Russia pushed Toris more in the room and started talking to America. "He has given you an infection, Alfred. He needs to be punished." Ivan took out the gun he had gotten from the cabinet and put it to Lithuania's head. Both other countries jumped when they saw what was happening. "So, since you were the one that was hurt by his stupidity, I shall let you choose his punishment." His evil smile was present as Russia said, "Should I kill him, or rape him?"

"What?!? Neither!" America yelled, his old personality showing through for a second. "I was the one who got sick and it wasn't Toris' fault it infected. It was," Alfred stopped his mouth before he could say 'your fault', "my fault. I should be the one to get punished." He stood up slowly, unable to move any faster from his wound. It was still oozing pus faintly into the bandage.

Lithuania just stood beside Russia, his arm still in his inescapable grasp. He tried getting Alfred's attention to let him know it was ok with whatever he chose, but America continued looking up at Ivan.

"It was your fault that he is an inexperienced nurse and you got infected due to his negligence? I think not, dear Alfred. Sit back down, like a good boy. Now choose, or I will choose for you, and I would choose a method like the Saw. He would be hung upside-down, with his legs apart, so all the blood goes to his head, oxygenating the brain, so he doesn't pass out when I start sawing him in half, starting from the crotch." He licked the side of Lithuania's cheek and smiled. "Well? Which will it be?"

Alfred walked up to the two of them, looking Toris in the eyes. He could tell that Lithuania was trying to seem calm and worry-free but America thought he could sense that his mind was racing. After all, his life was in Alfred's hands.

Then he looked up to Ivan, thinking up how to manoeuvre through this. "Before I choose, can I ask one thing?"

"Yes, of course you may. But I hold my right to not answer."

"Can I do it?"

"I suppose that would be acceptable, as long as you do something for me in return. You will have to give me fellatio." Russia laughed at Alfred's confused expression. "It means a blow job."

His spine stiffening, America weighed the choices again. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Lithuania was silently pleading Alfred to just let Russia do whatever he chose and to save himself.

Slowly, he furrowed his eyebrows, making up his mind. "Fine, but I get to choose what to do and how."

"Adding to the deal, are you?" Russia sat down in a chair in the corner of the room. "Fine, I agree, on one condition. I must be entertained, and you know how I like to be entertained, Alfred." He smiled, showing his brilliantly white teeth.

Just nodding, Alfred turned around, unable to make his decision with Lithuania's pleading looks. Yes, he was now going to punish him, but anything he did would be no where near as bad as what Russia would do.

After a few moments, he turned back, his eyes gone cold. Trying desperately to ignore Lithuania, he gazed up at Russia. "Give me your gun."

Russia raised an eyebrow as he handed over the black weapon. Yes, he had given him the option, but he had been sure America would have chosen the one that didn't involve his friend's death, especially when he had asked to do it himself. This was turning out very interesting, indeed. Perhaps Alfred was even more broken than before. But, looking at the blond, perhaps he simply had a trick up his sleeve. One that would punishable...

Testing the weight of the gun, Alfred thought once more about how to do this. It was a modern revolver, waiting for him to set it. He spun the barrel experimentally, each click driving into his heart. Since it was a revolver, it would make his plan harder to go through with, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

America continued to idly examine the gun, trying to waste as much time as possible before he had to go through with his plan. It was difficult for him to look up at Lithuania, because he was probably devastated that he was going to kill him instead of just letting him be raped.

"I am getting bored, Alfred." Russia said from the corner. He sat back on a chair, crossing his arms, a look of slight annoyance on his face.

Nodding to Russia, he went over to Lithuania, grabbing his arm and pulling him over to in front of his window. Before he let him go, he hung his head near Toris' and whispered. "Stay still."

Not wanting Ivan to become so bored he decided to do it himself, America raised the gun and took aim. He slowly pulled the hammer back, the gun loading itself, ready to fire. Lowering his head for a moment, praying that it would work, he looked back up and shot.

The sound of the glass shattering ricocheted through the room as he continually cocked the gun and fired into the window, just to the side of Lithuania's tense shoulder. He shot one more time, the gun clicking to signal it was out of bullets.

America then threw the gun out the broken window, falling to his knees afterwards. Lithuania soon followed, his legs unable to hold him up after being so nervous. They might have both lived through it, but Toris knew that for doing that, America and possibly he too would be punished even more severely.

There was a tense moment, until Russia stood up. "I am not amused, Alfred. Not amused at all." He walked toward them and looked at his captive. "Do you really think that being a martyr would save your friend?" He reached down and grabbed Lithuania by the collar of his shirt, pulling him upward. America didn't have time to do anything as Ivan pushed Toris out the broken window, falling onto the soft powder below. "I will deal with him later." With that, he kicked Alfred in the side, right where his appendix used to be.

Alfred yelled with pain as his wound was mercilessly kicked. He had known something was going to happen, but he didn't think it would end with Lithuania thrown out the window and having to freeze outside. Curling into a ball on his side, America wiped the tears that formed in his eyes from the sudden pain.

"Now, you must keep up your end of the deal." Russia unzipped his pants and took out his cock. "Suck it." He grabbed America by the hair and forced himself into the reluctant mouth, thrusting into it.

With Russia's cock in his mouth, new tears sprang to Alfred's eyes. It wasn't as if he hadn't done this before, but the length and girth of his manhood had rivalled anything that either of his holes had ever felt. He forced his throat to relax more as Ivan started thrusting deeper into his mouth, causing him to gag around it.

"You are horrible at this." Ivan said, still thrusting into America's mouth. After a while he came, still holding Alfred's head there, forcing him to swallow. He zipped his pants back up and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Walking downstairs to the door, he opened it, letting Lithuania in. He was hesitant and limping slightly. His leg was bleeding, no doubt from some glass that was left in the window.

"This is a difficult situation, Toris. Very difficult. You see, it is not your fault that Alfred is an idiot. You should not be punished for that. But, on the other hand, that is what he wanted to happen. I can't have him thinking he can control me." With that, he pulled out another gun, just like the other one. "But, by shooting over your shoulder, he made his choice. So, this is goodbye, Toris." He raised the gun, aiming at Lithuania's head.

"Wait! Just one thing! Promise me... promise me you will not kill Alfred, or let him die in any way. Promise!" There were tears in his eyes now, knowing that these were his last few minutes on this earth. He hoped it wouldn't hurt.

"...I promise. He will stay alive as long as it is in my power." _BANG!_ The now lifeless body fell to the ground, blood exploding from the forehead. Russia bent over, closing Lithuania's eyes with two fingers. He picked him up, lighter than America. Up the stairs, to the right. He unlocked the door, and opened it, seeing Alfred still sitting on the floor.

"You have company." Ivan put the body on the floor, right beside the American.

America knew something was wrong when Lithuania was placed beside him, blood seeping from an obvious bullet hole. Scrambling closer to the body of his friend, he knelt over it, placing his head on the lifeless chest, straining to hear a heart beat.

"Bastard!" he yelled, tears running down his face silently. "He didn't do anything wrong! I was the one who fucked up!"

"Have you not learnt that the world is not a fair place?" There was no smirk on Russia's face as he looked at the pale face with the line of blood. "Toris knew it was not a fair place." The look in his eyes could almost be interpreted as remorse. Almost.

"Why him? You should have killed me! I was the one who didn't do what you said!" America continued to yell, standing up shakily. He had seen many battle wounds from other wars he had been in with his soldiers, but seeing the body of his only friend in this hellhole lying on the ground was too much, even for him.

"You do not control me. I make my own decisions." Ivan left the room, the body still there. His mind already starting to wander to other things, he thought about how Latvia and Estonia would react when they found out their brother was dead. They didn't matter much, anyway. He could also kill them, if they made a fuss.

This time, he left the door wide open, silently letting America take care of the body.

Barely watching while Russia left the room, America turned his full attention to the corpse at his feet. As much as he wished Lithuania would just wake up the next day, happy and cheerful like he always was, he knew there was no hope. A gunshot to the head at point blank didn't leave any room to be able to survive. Instead, he just grabbed the rest of the bandages by his bed and started wrapping up his head, thinking that it was the least he could do after what had happened.

The biggest thing with it was not only did Russia murder Lithuania, but it was because of his decision. If he would have just let Russia rape him, then he would be sore, but alive. In essence, America really was the one to kill him.

In the same moment he realized this, he felt as if his entire life had crashed around him in one fell swoop. Canada had betrayed him by joining up with Russia and condemning him to a life of living with the sadistic man; he was forced to whip England who then had to walk to Finland and then had also joined with Russia's empire and now his only friend he had left was murdered for something that could have happened with or without him. America was slowly but surely becoming more and more alone in the world, except for Russia.

Alfred took off his glasses slowly and wiped his face off on his sleeve. He had started to cry while thinking about everything without even noticing. Placing them back on, he then started thinking of what he could do with his body. The best thing would be to bury him, but the ground was in a state of permafrost so it would take more effort to dig a suitable grave.

There was always the idea of burning the body. Russia had enough fire wood, but the difficult part would be lighting it outside in the snow. But, if there was no other way, he figured he might as well do that. Grabbing his jacket and putting it on, he figured it was the best idea.

America's stomach churned slightly as he hoisted the limp body up to carry it outside. If it was cold, it would stop it from decomposing so fast and thus from smelling. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs and out the front door, grateful that he didn't see Ivan on the way. Placing it lightly on the front steps, he could see some blood in the soft snow a few feet from where he was. That was most likely where he had fallen.

Shaking his head, America then went to the side of the house, making a path through the deep snow. His determination had stopped making him worry about how cold it was outside. Gathering an armful of dry firewood from under the lean-to, he brought it back to the courtyard, repeating the same steps a few more times till he had a sufficient amount of wood.

Without him noticing, his cut had started to bleed a bit from all the moving he was doing. Hissing slightly, he just continued to try and ignore the pain as he moved the snow away from the pile of wood, creating an empty circle of frozen grass. His hands shaking a bit, he brought out the lighter he had gotten from the woodpile and tried lighting the pile. It took a few times, but before long there was a blazing fire, melting the nearby snow.

The colours of the red sunset matched that of the fire as Alfred walked back towards Toris' body. It had now become stiff from rigour mortise and from the bone chilling cold. Half dragging it, he brought it to the fire, placing it on top of the blaze carefully.

Instantly, the flames licked away at his hair and clothes, melting them away as his skin started to blister. The smell had slowly become unbearable so America had started breathing through a scarf he had brought with him. He continued to watch, transfixed as Lithuania's body became a writhing mass of burning and bubbling matter. As much as it pained him to watch, he knew that Toris' ghost was glad that he had done the most in his power to see him off.

The fire continued burning away at both wood and skin; making it that America had to go gather more wood for the fire to continued burning. It was pitch black by the time there was nothing but bones left; the fire not hot enough to burn them. Still, Alfred stayed near the fire, its convulsive flickering enthralling him and making it unable for him to turn away. Toris was the only person that had still believed that he would still rise up against Russia and return to the world at large.

Even as the fire started to die off for a second time, America kept vigil. It was the least he could do to show Lithuania just how upset he was about the turn of events. He was so focused that he hadn't noticed his fingers and ears had started to turn bright red even with the heat from the fire.


	17. Chapter 17

Russia saw Alfred sitting outside, shivering in front of the fire. He walked right up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I think it is time for you to go inside." America looked up, his eyes glassy with tears.

Not even bothering to retort, Alfred just stood up and started walking in front of Russia. His heart was so heavy at the moment that he didn't even wait for Ivan to lead the way. When he got to the door, he tried to open it, only to find that his fingers wouldn't work properly from being so cold.

Laughing slightly, Russia opened the door for Alfred. He went inside without a look. "You still are recovering. You should rest in your bed." He followed him up the stairs, but went instead to his own room. Better to leave America alone for the time being, to have time to think.

Just as Russia was going into his own room, Alfred stopped, remembering. "But... My window is broken. My room will be freezing." He stated his eyes still wide and shimmering. The shock of the events hadn't made him forget what he did.

"Well that is unfortunate." Ivan closed the door to his room with a bang, and went over to his desk. He took out documents and once again started work.

America didn't even flinch as the door was slammed in his face. It was nothing compared to everything that had happened to him so far. Instead, he made his way silently to his room, dreading the night. It never occurred to him to just stay in one of the guest rooms again.

As soon as he opened the door, his mind played through the memories of the day. He could have sworn he could see Lithuania's body lying on the ground in front of him. Shaking his head lightly, Alfred took off his glasses again, rubbing his eyes off on his sleeves.

Staying silent, he went over to his bed, shivering from the cold wind blowing in from his broken window. Wrapping his jacket over him more, he lay down. For the first time since Toris was killed, his wound started hurting again, causing Alfred to bend over in pain as well as to keep warm under his blanket. Even though his body was exhausted, his mind kept spinning, making it impossible for him to sleep. Before he knew it, the sun had risen and he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep due to the cold as well as his own mind.

Grabbing his blanket tighter around him, America sneezed as he stood up and looked out the window. Fragments of the glass still hung onto the frame, their sides sharp and dangerous. He could faintly see some of the blood from Lithuania's fall on some of the shards, causing his stomach to turn. Raising his gaze, he looked out at the black patch in field of white, trying to tell himself he didn't see the bleach white of bones in the middle of gray and black ash. Still sickened by it all he turned around, only to look back at the shards of glass littering his floor. Grabbing one at random, he looked at it intently then tested its sharpness by poking the tip of his finger. Almost instantly a bead of crimson blood welled up, only to be licked away. Perfect.

Ignoring the dull pain in his abdomen, America walked to his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair had turned a dull and lifeless, even Nantucket becoming manageable. Over the last few months, his skin had become lighter and lighter to the point of being almost as pale as the snow keeping him in his prison. Even his eyes that used to be full of so much energy and excitement had dulled to a boring blue, like an unpolished gem.

Holding the shard of glass in his right hand, he looked at the scar for a moment before running the glass against his left hand, creating a mirror image. Blood welled up quickly, but as quick as it bled, it started to heal. Unsatisfied, he took off his jacket then ran the glass over the outside of his arm, drawing more blood out.

Alfred continued cutting light spider web cuts over his left arm before switching the glass to his left hand and repeating the motions on his right arm. Russia had punished him for the physical things he had done, but his mind wouldn't stop bothering him. Punishing himself was the only way he could forget about all the things that had happened to him; after all, it wasn't as if anyone else would be there to help him. Everyone he had ever cared deeply for was now a traitor to him. He had gone with Russia by his own free will, but it was so that they would be able to survive and rise against the vicious man. Instead –he thought, dragging the shard deeper along his shoulder- they had given up on him, leaving him to be tortured and mind fucked by Ivan, their old ally.

"There's no one else that cares... No one." America muttered to himself, starting to cut his chest after taking off his shirt, blood dripping from both arms. "They all gave up on me. They all gave _up_." Tears started running down his face, but he continued his ministrations.

More and more blood seeped from the multitude of cuts. He continued down from his chest onto his stomach. 'They never cared about you,' a small voice said in his mind, 'they just wanted to be with whoever was stronger. They just wanted to survive. Why else did they say they cared about you? They just wanted to be in your good books, and at the drop of a hat wouldn't think twice about betraying you.'

"Shut up!" Alfred yelled, looking at himself in the mirror, grabbing onto the edge of the counter. Seeing all the blood on him, he realized just how idiotic he was acting and broke down, falling to the floor and sobbing.

As hard as he tried forgetting what that piece of him said, he knew just how true it was. If they did actually care about him, wouldn't they try and find him to save him? They could have just asked Lithuania where the mansion was and then saved him. Then everything could have been fixed. Instead, he was left for dead; uncared for and forgotten, not to mention betrayed.

Alfred just stayed on the ground, the biting cold heightened by the slick blood all over his arms and torso. At that moment, he realized that he didn't care any more. He was better off dead. After all, who would care? Other than literally, America was dead to the world.

When Russia found Alfred, bleeding and broken, he said nothing. He took off his coat and picked him up, getting blood on his shirt. Then he lightly placed him in the bath, running warm water over the cuts, cleaning away the blood. Neither said a word through this, the silence telling everything. The thin cuts had already stopped bleeding, so they didn't need any bandages.

When all the blood was gone, Ivan helped America out of the tub. Alfred refused to meet his eye. Russia gave him a large white shirt to put on, covering his naked, cut-filled body. After it was on, he put his hand on the broken man's cheek, forcing his eyes upward. "Don't do that again." The words were spoken quietly, followed by a quick kiss.

Out of all the comebacks that were running through his mind, America kept his mouth shut, opting to keep silent. Most of the times he had been abused had been when he said a comment he should have kept to himself. Instead, he just grabbed his blanket and lay on his bed, more confused than ever. Everyone else had stopped caring, but was Russia starting to? He had done such terrible things to him, yet he had carefully washed away the blood, almost like a mother giving a bath to her child.

Russia left him to brood, going to the main landing of the house. Once there, he went to a side room, getting some plywood, hammer and nails. Then he went back to America's room, seeing the sleeping man. He didn't even wake up when he started hammering the plywood to the gaping hole, where once a window had been. The wind stopped blowing into the room, giving it the chance to warm up. Alfred had most likely already gotten a cold yesterday from sitting outside for so long. Having to care for him, on top of the help he would need with the mark from the operation, would be much too time consuming for someone taking over the world.


	18. Chapter 18

It had been a week since Lithuania was murdered, and America had only left his bed in order to go to the bath room. The rest of the time, he just lay in bed, allowing his mind to go numb. He didn't want to have to think anymore, because when he did, he would just think about Arthur, Matthew and Toris and everything he did to ruin their lives.

The window had been boarded up for the week as well, making his room as dark as the basement but much warmer. He got over the cold he got from being outside for so long as well as the open window just yesterday, but his head still felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. It at least gave him something else to set his mind to.

Sporadically, Russia had checked up on him, making sure he hadn't committed suicide as well as to bring him food so he wouldn't starve. Just then, he had come inside America's room again, bringing some breakfast for him.

"I think you need something to think about." He said as he placed the tray in front of America. "So I will start teaching you Russian today." Russia stayed in the room as Alfred ate. He hadn't cut himself after that time, which was good. When all the food was gone, he got out some paper and began with the alphabet.

Alfred watched with dead eyes as Russia wrote down the alphabet for his language. About half of them had looked familiar, but some were just plain strange. English was definitely better and way easier. "What's the point? I'm not going to remember any of it. I'll make sure I don't."

"Then I shall leave you here. Oh, by the way, you were screaming in your dreams once again. I believe I heard Toris, Arthur _and_ Matthew's name this time." He stood up and went to the door, leaving the paper on the bed. "Have fun with your memories, Alfred. For that is all that you keep as acquaintance lately."

After watching Russia leave him alone once again, America grabbed the paper and looked at it, sneering slightly. Russia might be the only one who 'cared' about him, but it didn't mean he was going to learn his language.

He looked over the letters slowly, trying to forget what Ivan had said. It was –unfortunately- probably the truth that he had said their names, since he was having constant nightmares about them turning their backs to him and confirming his fear that they never truly cared about him.

Before he realized it, he looked down at the paper on which he had doodled over it: stars and stripes entwined with blood and shattered glass. Sighing, he crumpled it up and threw it aside along with the pencil.

Turing toward the wall, he curled up in a ball, the scar from the operation free from pain. The stitches had dissolved a few days ago so he was just left with an inflamed stripe of skin.

Having a feisty pet was the best thing possible. You never ran out of reasons to punish them. Having a broken pet was a close second, doing whatever you wish without question. Having a pet that stayed in bed all day, to Russia, was the worst. It even took away the joy of raping them. So, he would have to find a way of getting America out of bed.

An idea came to him almost instantly. He got what he needed from one of the rooms in the basement, and then went to Alfred's room. Then he showed it to him, a leather collar with a leach attached.

"What's that for?" America asked softly, grabbing his glasses of the bedside table so he could see it better. His eyes narrowed slightly as he realized just what it was, and what Russia was probably planning on doing with it.

"It is for you, of course! You need to get out of bed." So he put on the collar, America giving little resistance. Then he pulled on the leash, making him get out of the bed. "This will be fun!"

"I don't want to." he stumbled onto his feet as the leash was tugged again. "Just let me stay here please." Reaching up to the collar, America touched it, trying to find out how to get it off.

Russia slapped Alfred's hand away from the collar. "No. You must get up, or your legs will become jelly, and you wouldn't want that, would you? Not being able to walk anywhere, needing me to help you go to the bathroom, and never any chance of seeing anything besides the inside of your own room." They went into the hallway and continued down the stairs.

Following behind Russia as far as the leash would allow, America tried thinking of what he was trying to get him to do. "Where are we going?"

"I thought a walk would be nice." Ivan walked to the door and opened it, a slight breeze stirring up the lazily falling snow. They went into the courtyard, in the knee deep snow. Russia was fine, used to the cold, and with a jacket, but America had less winter clothes on and started shivering almost immediately. But, of course, the large Russian just kept on walking, heading to a dead-looking tree.

America continued to shiver uncontrollably as he reached back up to the collar, now frantically trying to get it off so he could return inside, if not to his room. "W-w-why out-s-side?" he managed to get out, his teeth chattering.

"Because it is so nice outside." Russia looked out at his land, smiling a truly happy smile. "Look at all the sparkling snow! Possibly the most beautiful sight in the world, rivaled only by your brother's land. And, even Matthew admitted that it was beautiful here."

"Alaska's c-cold too." America muttered, rubbing his arms to help warm them up. It had always bothered him that Russia had called both Arthur and Matthew by their first names, and even more so now that they had allied with him. "How c-can you c-call this g-good weather? St-stupid snow everywh-where."

"Yes, and I am sure the 0.2 percent of the population of America that lives there considers it _very_ cold." Russia said with a small snort of laughter. Then he looked to Alfred, who was turning blue. Ivan stepped closer and wrapped his coat around him, drawing America closer to the warmth of his own body. "Now you should stop complaining about the cold."

Struggling for a moment, Alfred stopped as he realized that it would probably be for the best. He didn't want to be so close to Russia, but if it was to be warm and not punished further, then he figured he might as well just stay pressed against his broad chest. America just grumbled lightly to himself as Ivan started to move again, making him walk awkwardly along with him.

Russia continued walking until they got to the gnarled tree, and then he stopped. He just stood there, looking out at the endless sea of snow.

"Now what?" Alfred asked, holding on lightly to Russia's shirt. Thinking maybe he was looking at something, America looked over his shoulder at the expanse of bleak, white land.

"I am simply admiring the view. But I suppose we should go back, since you are so cold you are clinging to me like a lost puppy." He started walking back to the house, keeping America in his coat the whole time.

Frowning slightly at Russia's remark, he let go of his shirt and tried his best to stay close as they walked back to the house. As soon as they got to the door, America got out from inside the coat and opened it. He tried running away inside until the sharp tug at his throat cutting off his air supply reminded him about the leash and collar.

"Yes, a puppy indeed." He pulled on the leash, leading America to the kitchen. Then he got a bowl, and filled it with soup that was warming on the stove. Then he put it on the floor. "Here is your lunch."

America just glared at Russia for a moment before leaning down and grabbing the bowl.

Bending down to stop the American from picking up the bowl, Russia smiled. "No, dogs eat on the floor."

"I'm not a dog." He stated matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. Just because Russia seemed to think he was didn't make it the truth.

"Ah, but you are. You _are_ my bitch, in case you forgot." Russia smiled and patted Alfred on the top of his head, just as you would a dog. "You should be happy I gave you a spoon!"

Giving in, Alfred sat on the floor cross-legged with an 'hmph'. He grabbed the spoon and lent over the bowl as much as he could and started eating slowly. Even though it was a while ago, he was still a bit edgy about anything Russia gave to him. Also, his self-inflicted depression had taken away most of his hunger.

There was a flash as Russia took a picture of his pet, sitting on the floor to eat, with a collar on. America looked up, confused. "Just something to remember this moment by." The Polaroid came out, and Russia looked at it, smiling. He then took a pen and drew dog ears on Alfred.

America stood up quickly and went to grab the picture as Russia kept it away from him. "Give it to me!" he said desperately, still reaching for the photo.

When Russia held it just out of Alfred's reach. America stood on his tiptoes, trying to get it. Ivan bent his neck, kissing him on his mouth. With his free hand, Ivan pushed his head forward, making it impossible to get away. Sucking America's bottom lip into his mouth, Russia bit it and then let him go.

Wiping his mouth off frantically on his shoulder and backing up, Alfred glared up at Russia who still held the incriminating picture in his hand. "What was that for?"

"It was just that you were so close, I couldn't help myself." Russia sat down, looking at the picture. "I wonder how much people would pay to see this. The former Super Power, now treated like a dog."

"Not many," America grumbled, still standing so he now had to look at Russia in the eye. "No one cares anymore."

"Hm, I guess not." He stood up, getting his soup and sitting back down again. "_I_ would pay a million dollars for it."

America stayed silent as Russia started eating his soup. He tried in vain not to let his words affect him, but it was difficult. Ivan was still the last person he wanted to care about him. It was ok because he had food and such, but he had still done countless things to his body and mind.

The leash attached to his collar was around Russia's wrist, so America had to stand awkwardly for a moment before accidentally sneezing and getting his attention. "Uh... Can I get my food too?" He was hoping dearly that he would let Alfred bring his dish up to the table along with Russia.

"Well, I suppose you could bring it to the table." Ivan waved his hand in the direction of America's bowl, which was soon picked up.

After his bowl was on the table, Alfred quickly ate the rest of it, worried that Russia might try to get him to do something else embarrassing. He looked over quickly at said person, seeing the picture lying on the table on the far side from America. As quick as he could, America reached out for the picture, frantically grabbing for it again.

Without looking up from his soup, Russia snatched Alfred's hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking on the pinky finger. "Do _you_ want to be my lunch?"

"No." America muttered, turning his hand into a fist and pulled it away from Russia's mouth. He then wiped it off on his pants, wanting even more to be in his room alone. "Can I go back to my room now? I've already been with you for a while and I want to sleep."

"I suppose you could. But you will have to get out of bed tomorrow, as well." Russia bent over the table, undoing the collar. "I'll see you in my dreams, then."

Without waiting an extra moment, America got of the chair and all but ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he shut the door and dove onto his bed, curling up while trying to clear his mind of thoughts as he often did lately. Russia was much more close to him today, and it had worried Alfred somewhat. He was too used to having Russia as an enemy so now that he started acting like they were 'lovers' it had shaken him. Even with all his jumbled thoughts that wouldn't leave, he slowly fell into a troubled sleep.

Russia finished his soup and started cleaning up. Then he looked at the picture again. Alfred had a cute, surprised look on his face. He had really found the perfect pet. And now he was trained.


	19. Chapter 19

_Opening his eyes, Alfred found himself in a strange, darkened room. Looking around, he saw __England__'s back facing toward him further inside. Running toward him, __America__ called out. "Arthur! It's me!"_

_Even though he called out his name, __England__ remand turned around, making Alfred yell more as he continued to get closer. "Arthur! Arthur!" He finally reached him, yet Arthur had still failed to turn around._

_"It's me Arthur, I'm finally free." He put his hand lightly on __England__'s shoulder to get his attention, only for him to look over it and glare up at __America__._

_"I'm busy you git, now sod off. No one cares if you're free or not." His thick eyebrows were furrowed in anger but they were offset by the fact that his lips were vaguely swollen and shiny. "Now," he started, his voice dropping into a more seductive tone as he turned his head back, "where were we?"_

_For the first time, __America__ could see just why Arthur's back was toward him and why he failed to hear his calls. __England__ had started once more to passionately kiss none other than __Russia__ himself._

_Alfred looked like a deer in the headlights as he watched Arthur and Ivan kiss each other with flourish, distracted a bit by the ferocity of it. Shaking his head, he grabbed __England__'s shoulder again and yanked him away from __Russia__. "What are you doing?! He's the enemy!" he yelled, his heart aching from the glare __England__ was giving him. "You're supposed to love __me.__" He added his voice dropping in volume._

_England__'s loud, patronizing laugh shook Alfred to his very core. "Me," he started, wiping a stray tear from his eye, "love _you_? You could only wish." He went to turn around again but __America__ gripped his shoulder harder._

_"But you took care of me and raised me as your son; your brother!" __America__ forced his voice not to crack. _

_"I only did because you wanted me instead of that wine-faced frog. And you were the one, after all, that fought tooth and claw against me to gain your freedom."_

_Alfred's gaze softened slightly. "That's because..."_

_"Who cares why," Arthur interrupted, "it doesn't matter any more. You betrayed us all, so we've betrayed you."_

_"I didn't betray you! I was trying to keep you and Matthew safe!" America closed his eyes tightly, his grasp on __England__'s shoulder becoming vice-like. He shook his head again and opened his eyes, only to be faced with not Arthur, but Matthew's annoyed face._

_"Stop trying to be optimistic about everything. That's what got all of us in trouble in the first place." __Canada__ said, pouting angrily. "If it wasn't for you, the world would still be safe."_

_America__ loosened his grip slightly on his brother's shoulder. "Matthew..." he started, his blue eyes wide. "Why?"_

_"Why did I join with __Russia__?" he finished for Alfred, brushing his hand off his shoulder. "You were the one that left us for him first."_

_"I didn't join him! I just went with him so you could live peacefully."_

_For the first time, __Russia__ looked at Alfred instead of Arthur or Matthew. He touched __Canada__'s face lightly before he stood up and went in front of __America__, holding his face in his large hand. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Stop being a martyr and just admit that you went to me because you love me the most."_

_"No!" America yelled, shaking his head from Russia's hold, only for both of his hands to roughly grab his face again. He then tilted Alfred's head back and attacked his lips. Alfred fought against the embrace, pushing away at the Russian's broad chest. Smiling, Ivan then let go of him and kept standing._

_Wiping his mouth off with his hand, __America__ asked shakily. "Matthew, why did you betray me? I'm your brother! __Russia__ just wants to take over the world; he doesn't really care about you."_

_"Some kind of brother you are, leaving me to deal with the radiation coming in from your land. Anyways, you always forgot who I was, or tried to get me to be like you. Ivan never once forgot my name and liked me for who I was, not who I was related to. Sorry __America__, but I just don't care about _you_ any more."_

_Tears in his eyes, Alfred shook his head once again as Matthew stood up next to Russia, a shy smile on his face as he grabbed onto his shirt._

_"I'm terribly sorry; I must ask you to leave now. Matthew and I still need to cement our alliance." Russia smirked over the top of Canada's head, who was looking up at Ivan with poorly disguised lust in his bright blue eyes._

_Alfred just squeezed his eyes closed again, clenching his fists and wishing he was somewhere –_any_where- different. He opened them slowly, finding himself back in his house before it was destroyed._

_Glad there was no __Russia__ to be seen, __America__ allowed himself to enjoy looking over all his possessions. Everything seemed to be exactly where it was before, almost as if the bombings never took place._

_"Ah, hello Alfred! I'm amazed that you're up already." Turning quickly from the sound of a familiar voice, __America__ was dumbstruck to see __Lithuania__ standing in the doorway._

_"Toris...? How are you here? Aren't you dead?" Alfred floundered, his mind extremely confused._

_Lithuania__ laughed quietly as he stayed in the doorway. "Of course I am." Upon seeing Alfred's face contort in confusion, Toris continued. "Don't tell me you forgot?"_

_"Forgot what?" he asked hesitantly, not really wanting to know the answer that __Lithuania__ would most likely give._

_Smiling lightly, __Lithuania__ explained. "That you are dead too. __Russia__ had grown bored of having such an uncooperative pet that he decided to kill you. It really was a shame, you bled an awful lot and he had to clean it up afterwards."_

_Alfred clenched his fists. "He couldn't have killed me...!" he yelled, not finishing his sentence, although a small voice did for him 'he cares about me too much!'_

_He looked down quickly, shocked at the patches of red appearing on his shirt. Taking it off hurriedly, he saw two bullet holes and a multitude of slashes in his torso that were bleeding freely_

_America looked back up to Lithuania, his eyes wide with worry. Blood started blossoming from his forehead, dripping down his face. "It's the truth Alfred; everyone has bowed down to Ivan or has faced death." _

_"No..." he started, placing his hand on his chest, feeling for the nonexistent heartbeat. "No!" __America__ yelled as he glancing at his blood soaked hand for a second before looking back at __Lithuania__. Where he was previously standing, __Russia__ was now smirking down at him._

_"Every one will become one with Mother Russia. None will escape her wrath."_

When he first head the frantic '_no no no'_ from America's room, Russia got out of bed and headed two rooms over, just in time to see Alfred turning and twisting in bed. He walked over, and when a loud scream tore from the nightmare, Ivan lightly put his hand on America's shoulder, waking him up. Smiling, Russia asked, "So, what was this one about?"

Without answering, Alfred immediately looked down at his chest, relieved not to see any blood. Raising a shaking hand, he wiped off the sweat on his forehead and stayed silent for a few moments, going over his newest nightmare in his mind. The light touch of Russia had left his sensitive nerves shot. "Stuff." He answered quietly, reminding himself of the 'uncooperative' part.

"Well, it is time you woke up anyway. Today you are going to clean the house, so get up and put on your outfit." Ivan pointed to the chair, where he had just placed a frilly maid's outfit, and a feather duster.

America reached over for his glasses and put them on so he could see what Russia was pointing to. When he saw it was a small, lacy maid's dress, his first reaction was to say "No!" which he did, and quickly shut his mouth. If he was uncooperative, would Ivan really kill him? He had said that America was just a convenient pet, and he hadn't hesitated to kill his more 'trained' pet when he was being stubborn. It would probably be easier for him to kill Alfred than it was to murder Lithuania.

"Oh, I think it will be quite nice on you." Russia said, picking it up and holding it at arms length. "Of course, you will not be able to fill out the chest, but it will just have to do for now."

Standing up slowly, Alfred held out his hand for the dress, a slight frown on his face. "I'll go get changed."

"Wow, without even being threatened? You have really changed, haven't you?" Russia handed him the dress, smiling when he went to the bathroom. "Oh, you can just get changed here. I don't mind." America glared at him as he started taking off his clothes. "Don't forget the underwear!"

His frown deepened, but America didn't say anything as he stripped in front of Russia. Slipping on the dress, he found that it only came to half-way down his thighs and the chest was fairly loose as Russia said it would be. He pulled the hem of the dress down a bit as he glared up at Ivan. "No picture this time?" he asked snidely.

"Wrong." Russia pulled out the same camera and took another picture, just as cute as the one before. "Why bother getting you dressed up if it is only for my memory? I like to relive these things, you know." Ivan smiled, seeing the developed picture. Maybe it was even cuter than the dog one.

Once again, Alfred tried reaching for the picture but kept his head lowered slightly so that Russia wouldn't try to kiss him. Since Ivan was so tall, all he had to do was lift it above his head again so that America gave up, a light blush on his face.

"If you want this picture, you will have to kiss me." Ivan smiled evilly down at Alfred.


	20. Chapter 20

America's eyes went wide at Russia's comment. His mind quickly went through the situation, thinking of the best way to get what he wanted without having Ivan get upset with him. Pulling on the bottom of the dress again, America turned even redder as he grabbed onto Russia's shirt, bending him closer to him as he went on his tiptoes. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, he let go and looked at the ground. "Now give it to me. Please." He added sourly.

"That's not what I meant." Russia grabbed the back of Alfred's head, pulling him up and ravishing his mouth, sticking in his tongue and exploring the warm mouth. After a few seconds, Ivan let him go and gave him the picture. "That was much better."

Wiping his mouth off on his arm this time, Alfred avoided Ivan's gaze as he looked down at the picture in his hands. In it, he looked even more pathetic than he imagined. Glowering, he tore the photo into small pieces and threw them on the floor. "Why are you doing this?" he muttered quietly at the floor.

"Doing what?" He asked vaguely, turning and leaving the room.

Like many times before, as Russia left the room Alfred wasn't far behind. "This!" he exclaimed, gesturing to his outfit. "In fact, all of this! Why are you taking over the world? Why are you keeping me here?" Even though he didn't say it, 'Why do you care so much about me?' was implied through his pleading stare.

Russia turned around and quickly embraced Alfred in a large hug. "Because I love you." He let go and looked at the befuddled look America was giving him. Then Ivan burst out laughing and walked away, his chuckling still resounding in the hallway.

America stood still in shock for a moment before running to catch up with the still chuckling Russian. "What does that have to do with anything if it's a lie." He started pulling on the dress again, still feeling awkward about it.

'How do you know it's a lie? Perhaps the whole point of the Cold War was so that you could finally be mine. Perhaps I fell in love with you when we were allies. Perhaps the reason I brought England here was because I was always jealous.' He still didn't look at America as he said, 'Or perhaps I have only ever loved Lithuania, and you were just a pawn, and I was angry he was befriending you.'

"Stop being so confusing." Alfred said quietly as he tried to figure out just what Russia meant by what he said. "You said I," he stopped, swallowing loudly, "I love you, yet you laughed. You have to be lying."

'I am a very happy person. I laugh quite a lot, you see. Now, get to cleaning. Unless you wish to do me a different favour while wearing that.' Russia glanced at the hem of the skirt, leaving no question to the meaning of that last sentence.

Turning away from Ivan, America walked back to his room to get the duster. It was extremely embarrassing, but at least he only had to do this for one day without any evidence of it. He figured he might as well clean his room first, so he set to it, humming a tune that seemed familiar, but he couldn't put a name to it.

Once his room was finished –which didn't take too long- he started on the library, getting everything that he could reach easily clean first. Next it was the more difficult part. He grabbed the footstool from the large chair, noting dryly that the book he was reading before was still on the side table, open to the page he stopped at. Placing the stool by the bookcase, he started dusting off the closest shelves, reaching higher on tiptoes to get the highest shelves, but still unable to reach the tallest one.

Peering behind a bookcase, Russia saw Alfred reaching as high as he could to dust a top shelf, the skirt lifted just enough to see the bottom of the frilly underwear. He had a different camera this time, which made no sound as it took the picture. It was also quite small, so he could carry it wherever he wanted, never needing to miss a picture-perfect moment again.

America got off the stool and moved it further down the bookcase as he continued cleaning it. Even though he couldn't reach the top of the tall bookcase, he figured that it would be ok because Russia didn't seem to go in the room too often. As he finished, he placed the stool back by its chair, glancing at the book sitting there. Looking around the room swiftly then poking his head to look in the hall and still not seeing Ivan, he went back to the chair and sat down, intent on just reading one more entry before he continued cleaning.

After everything that had happened since he read last, the entries tore even more at his heart. Every British spelling or phrase ripped his heart, more so if Canada shared the strange spelling. America kept telling himself not to be affected by it, but it didn't stop the few tears that ran down his face silently.

"That isn't cleaning." Russia appeared from behind another bookcase, looking slightly angry. "Because you took a break without my permission, you must give me another blow job. And make it better than the last one."

Looking up at Russia with wet eyes, America stood up, pulling the dress down and started walking out of the room. On the way out, he grabbed the duster and made his way to the next room.

Russia grabbed Alfred by the wrist, turning him around. "Don't you walk away from me like that.' He slid his hand up the skirt, putting it in the frilly underwear.

"If you are not going to give me a blow job, I will find release some _other_ way."

Alfred just stared at the hand on his wrist, trying to ignore the hand fondling him. "I don't want to be raped."

"You know what you have to do to make that not happen." Russia smiled when America slowly bent down and undid his pants. He hesitated, but then reached in and pulled out Ivan's cock, already at half mast.

Going on his knees, America was disgusted with himself for doing this, but it was much better than the alternative. Holding onto Russia's cock with his hand, he slowly licked the tip, watching as he smiled down at him. Taking it as a sign that he was doing it right, he brought the head of it into his mouth and sucked lightly, tasting the salty precum. Alfred then lowered his head enough so that he was just about deep-throating him, but so he wasn't about to gag. He then ran his tongue along the underside of it along the pulsing vein as he worked Russia up to a full erection.

Sucking slightly harder, America took Ivan's cock out of his mouth with an audible _pop_ as he went to lick the shaft from base to tip, licking up the milky white bead of precum. Once again, he took it fully into his mouth, relaxing his throat so he could take him deeper. Breathing through his nose, Alfred started moving against his dick, licking and sucking at appropriate intervals. He was mostly careful not to have his teeth run along the shaft, but on occasion he let them graze against the hardened flesh.

Alfred heard Russia give an appreciatory moan as he felt his large hand grab onto his hair, forcing him deeper into America's mouth. It took all of his attention to keep from vomiting all over him as his gag reflex was tested time and time again. He had given blow jobs before, but he was always the one in control of them. This time though, he was literally having his throat and mouth fucked by the giant he was sucking off.

"Hm, a little better than last time. Something else you will need to be trained in." Russia said, watching his dick going in and out of America's mouth. After a while, he reached orgasm, once again filling Alfred's mouth. Some dripped out, but he managed to swallow most of it.

When Russia took his cock out of Alfred's mouth and tucked himself back in, America continued to swallow, trying to remove the lingering taste. He wiped the few drops of cum that had escaped from his mouth off with his finger, then smeared in on the side of the dress as he stood up on shaking legs. America grabbed the duster off the ground and slowly started making his way to the next room.

Once again, Russia grabbed Alfred's hand. "You got the dress dirty. You have to take it off now." He smiled, looking at the cum stain on the dress.

Not bothering to fight back, Alfred just took the dress off, letting it fall to the floor. He turned around quickly to try and walk away again, but he wasn't fast enough. Russia had obviously noticed that he had developed a bit of a 'problem' while giving him head.

"You should deal with that. It is unhealthy to leave it alone and ignore it." Russia gestured toward America's erection. "You can do it on the chair." He smiled, pointing to the chair in the corner.

Crossing his arms over his naked chest, America's face turned light pink. "I'm not giving you a show." He was risking his life a bit with that comment, but he was adamant about it.

"Well then, you will orgasm another, more embarrassing way. Just by being pleasured from behind." Ivan stepped closer, cupping America's naked ass. "It should be getting lonely. I have not entered it for a while, after all."

Alfred shivered slightly at the feeling of Russia's strangely cold hand on his butt. "I'll do it." He muttered quietly, waiting for Ivan to remove his hand before he walked over to the chair, eyeing it dangerously.

"Stop wasting time and get to it!"

Glaring over at Russia's disappointed frown, America sat in the chair, finding the most comfortable position that he could be in as well as being the most hidden he could from Ivan.

Looking down at his cock, he took it lightly in his hand, the scar rubbing against it strangely. He hadn't touched himself since he had gotten the wound and the only other time it was touched was when Russia had been raping him. Because of it, his cock responded quickly to his grasp, quickly turning dark and engorged from the blood rushing to it.

Alfred pressed his eyes closed and bit his bottom lip as he increased the speed of his hand, still using a light grip. He let himself become submersed in his own world he was creating, effectively shutting Russia out. Slowly, he increased the tightness of his hand, rubbing his precum around on the head of his cock and down the shaft so he could pump faster.

Eventually, he became so into the illusion he had created for himself that he had started to thrust into his hand; knees bent and feet on the arms of the chair. Alfred moaned something unintelligible as he released hard onto his hand and stomach, a few drops finding their way onto his face.

Panting as he recovered from his orgasm, America cracked open an eye to see Russia standing there, a wide smile on his face like usual whenever he made Alfred do something.

Ivan had hidden the camera behind his back at just the right minute, so that America had no clue of the lewd picture that had been taken. "Now, I suppose that feels better? Of course, this means you will also need to clean the chair." Then he walked away, leaving a blushing Alfred covered in his own cum.

As soon as Russia had left the room, he sighed and fell back in the chair. He raised his right hand slowly, turning it so he could see the cum on it as well as that on his torso. Getting up slowly, he made his way to his room, glad he didn't have to go past Ivan's open door.

He went into his bathroom, starting up a shower and washing off his cum. Thinking about it made him place his head against the cool tile of the shower wall. He had just embarrassed himself twice in the last half hour.

Once he was clean, he dried himself off and looked in the hallway to see if the dress was still there. It wasn't there, so America just assumed that Russia had taken it with him when he left Alfred. Feeling slightly worried, he grabbed the clothes he had been wearing previously and slipped them back on.

Doing as Ivan said, he went back to the library and cleaned up the few drops of cum that had landed on the upholstery. After he was done, he picked up the feather duster and continued cleaning the multitude of rooms in the house, except for Russia's.

It had turned to night as America finished cleaning the foyer. He had stopped quickly for some food so he wouldn't collapse, and continued even as he ate the simple food.

Alfred allowed himself to sigh quietly, looking around the entrance. He had done all the rooms in the house, so he should be able to go to sleep; after all, all the work he had done today, including the sexual acts had drained the little energy he had.

The only thing left was the basement. He eyed the door nervously, thinking it through. America wasn't sure if Russia would take it as something to be punished or a stroke of brilliance if he cleaned the rooms down there for him. Making up his mind, he walked over to the door, opening it with an eerie creaking sound.

Looking up the stairs, thinking he would see Russia staring down at him, America just swallowed his fear and started down the stairs slowly. Dread started finding its way into his stomach as each of the wooden stairs protested his passing with loud squeaks.

Russia walked past the door to the basement, seeing that it was open and there was a light down there. Curious, he walked down to see America dusting in the room directly opposite the stairs. "Well, since you're down here, I guess you want something, since you know what I use these rooms for."

America jumped as he heard Ivan's voice, his heart racing. His had been on high alert for any hint that the Russian had found him, yet he was so engrossed in his task that he hadn't noticed him. "No, I'm just doing what you told me to do."

"I never said that you had to clean down here." Ivan wrapped his arms around America's waist, now skin and bones since he had arrived here.

"I wasn't sure." Alfred stayed still as Russia held onto him at the waist. If he fought it, he might get forced to do some other embarrassing thing. That was all that had seemed to happen to him anyways.

"It is nice that you tried to please me, but considering the late hour, I will let it slide." He said while whispering in America's ear, one of his hands kneading the other's butt slightly.

Alfred didn't need to be told twice. Right when the hand around his waist disappeared, he all but ran out of the room, up both flights of stairs and into his room. Without closing his door, he curled up on his bed, exhausted from the day's events. Even though his body soon fell asleep, his mind continued to terrorize him with nightmares of him covered in blood while Russia looked on at the scene, smirking.

﻿


	21. Chapter 21

Russia looked at his new collection of photos. The one of America's butt, the new brand clearly seen; the one with the collar; the one of when he had sucked his thumb in his sleep; the one in the shower, and many more. Looking at these, he decided that he needed some release.

Alfred's door was closed, but at least he did more than just lie in bed all day. Ivan opened it, and saw America sitting on a chair, reading. He looked up when Russia entered the room. "Undress. I want sex."

Inwardly, America started complaining, telling Russia he could go fuck himself. But in reality, he would probably be dead before he finished the sentence so he just placed his book aside and stared up at Ivan with cold eyes. "I don't." he said bluntly.

"And that matters to me why?" Russia walked into the room, and closed the door. Then he took off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. "I said, get undressed. If you do it my way, it will be much easier for you, as you far well know."

Knowing full well what his hidden threat was, America stood up from the chair and took his shirt off, throwing it on the floor to join Russia's. Next he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off, looking questioningly at Ivan.

When the Russian's pants also fell to the floor, along with his underwear, he lay down on the bed, on his back. "You will need to take your underwear off if you expect to be able to ride me."

Alfred's eyes widen at Russia's offhand comment. "I am _not_ riding you." he said, almost growling. Even with that, he still took off his underwear and sat on the bed cross-legged.

"Yes, because obviously you wouldn't want to be in control of the situation, able to decide how fast we go and, by consequence, how much it hurts for you. And you wouldn't want to have the position usually reserved for the dominant in the relationship. You want to keep your role as the bitch any way you can." Russia smiled and put his arms behind his head, completely comfortable in the current situation.

"I don't want to be your _bitch_." This time, he did growl as he spat out the last word. Slowly though, as he thought through what Russia had said, his expression turned somewhat sour. "What 'relationship'?" he asked darkly.

"We live in the same house. I make you meals. You clean. We have sex, and I love you. This is a relationship. Now, get over here so I can prepare you. Unless you would rather do it yourself, while I watch." Russia watched the confused expression on Alfred's face disappear to one of complete embarrassment.

"You don't love me. No one does." America said looking away from Ivan. "Especially not you." With that, he looked to the Russia's smug face, glowering slightly.

"Believe what you want." Russia sighed slightly and inclined his head. "Stop stalling. Get over here so I may embrace you properly."

America knew there was nothing else he could do or say, other than what Russia wanted him to. He crawled closer to his chest and sat on his knees, waiting for Russia to do something.

Ivan grabbed America by the hips. "I suppose you need some help." He stuck two of his fingers in his mouth and then placed them at Alfred's entrance. Both of them entered at the same time, scissoring to loosen the opening even more. America was obviously trying his hardest to pretend like nothing was happening, like he _wasn't_ sitting on Russia's lap, like there _weren't_ fingers up his ass, and like he _wasn't _getting hard. Ivan added another finger.

When the third finger joined the others inside of him, Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, placing his hands on Russia's chest and trying to forget what was going to happen after the fingers were removed. As Russia moved his fingers around, he gasped as his prostate was grazed, curling his hands into fists.

The fingers were removed, and Ivan looked to America expectantly. There was a large blush on his face as he grasped the large cock gingerly and led it to his entrance. Russia smiled as his shaft penetrated the hot, tight ass. "Mm, you are definitely better with that hole than you are with this one." He reached up and ran his thumb along America's bottom lip.

Shaking, Alfred allowed himself to be slowly penetrated. In his mind, he though snidely that he was lucky to have at least gotten preparation this time even if the lube was just some saliva. America bit the corner of his lip hard as he took in all of Russia, his ass touching the trail of pubic hair. His hands splayed on Ivan's chest as a tear fell onto the pale flesh.

"Move." Quiet, but forceful. Russia watched as Alfred raised himself using his knees and went back down, as slowly as he could manage. The next time he went up, Ivan thrust quickly and forcefully, embedding himself deeply.

Alfred cried out as Russia thrust into him, silently demanding him to move faster. Complying to the unspoken wish, he continued to raise and lower himself, creating a rhythm that started to speed up. Throughout the entire thing, America's eyes were sealed shut, less he look down in the lust-hazed violet eyes below him. He felt extremely uncomfortable as he gained speed, his ass starting to hit against Ivan's pelvic bone. Without looking he could tell that Russia was looking up at him, sickeningly turned on by Alfred's predicament.

After a few minutes, Russia grabbed Alfred's cock, giving it long, smooth strokes with his large hand. America gasped, another small tear falling from his closed eyes. Ivan smiled, loving the embarrassed yet turned on look he had on his face. He cried out as he came all over Russia's hand, coating it with white liquid. Ivan lifted it to his mouth and licked it off, savouring the salty taste.

Panting from exhaustion, America slowly raised himself on Russia, trying to get off of the thick, painful cock. After his orgasm, he could no longer pretend like he didn't enjoy it somewhat, now only feeling the pain from his stretched hole.

"Where do you think you're going? I haven't finished." Ivan roughly grabbed America's hips again, slamming him down so his cock was completely encased in Alfred's ass. For the next few minutes, he continued fucking him, loving the look of the tear-stained face above him.

Knowing that until Russia climaxed, he wouldn't be allowed to leave, America started moving along with Russia's thrust. Once again he clamped down on Ivan's shaft, hoping that it would help make him release faster.

His eyes were still closed, so when he heard Russia grunt quietly followed by a few more hard pumps, Alfred knew that he was seconds from release before he felt the searing heat inside him. Quickly, he got off of Russia and opened his eyes, his softening member sliding out of him with a wet squelch. America tried to gather his clothes so that he could lay on a different bed before collapsing on the floor. He had used more energy then he had for a while and wasn't used to moving so much anymore. Cum was still slipping out of his ass as he closed his eyes again.

"Oh, poor Alfred worked too hard trying to please his Master that he collapsed on the floor." Russia got up and bent down to pick up his slave from the floor. Then he put him in the bed that they had just used. Bending down, Ivan kissed him on the forehead. Then he got his clothes and got dressed, leaving the room.

America stared at the wall as he heard Russia leave his room. He flipped so that he was lying on his stomach, any pressure off of his butt. He started breathing through his mouth after he realized darkly that his pillow held the faint scent of Ivan. Exhausted, it wasn't long until America fell into yet another restless slumber.

.oOo.

"That letter makes the D sound. The one that looks like an H makes an N sound." Ivan pointed to letters, helping America learn Russian. He had said he was bored, so this was what he had to do.

"What's this one then? The one that looks like a O and an l fused together." Alfred asked, pointing to said letter. It had been a few days since Russia and him had talked or even interacted, and he had started to feel more bored than usual. He had finished the war journals, upset but slightly unsurprised that the man had died in captivity. He normally would have found some other way to keep entertained, but he figured if he was to be around Russia, hopefully it wouldn't involve him being raped or tortured.

Even though he wouldn't admit it to Ivan, he had told him he was bored hoping for something like this. Learning Russian would at least give him something to concentrate on instead of thinking over and over about how pointless everything had become. Also, if he managed to impress him, then maybe he would get privileges instead of punishments.

"That makes an F sound." Ivan put his hand under his chin, thinking. "Alfred, could you stand over there for me?" He pointed to a spot on the other side of the room. It seemed like it was chosen at random, nothing particular about it.

Alfred stared at Russia for a moment before standing up silently. When he got to the spot he had pointed at, America turned around to face him, his hands by his side. "Now what?"

Nodding, Ivan looked around the room. "Go sit on that chair, legs crossed." With an eyebrow lifted, Alfred did so. Then Russia pointed to a spot near the window. "Now go lay on the floor there."

Throughly confused at to what Russia was trying to get him to do, Alfred continued to do as told, figuring there was no harm in such simple requests. He went over to the window, laying on his stomach carefully since there were still miniature grains of glass on the floor that he wasn't able to clean up. "What are you doing?" he asked as he was on the ground.

Ivan smiled. "Just seeing if you would do it." He laughed at America's glare as he stood up. "The Great America, doing my bidding."

"I'm not doing your bidding, I'm just..." America stopped, his gaze falling to the floor. He really didn't know just what he was doing other than doing exactly as Russia ordered. Alfred thought that there was some point to it, so he went along with it. Better to do small, seemingly pointless things than to suffer.

"Well, I think that is about enough learning for your brain to handle at one time. We should have supper now." Ivan got off the bed and walked toward the door. "If I tell you to stand perfectly still until I call you, would you do it?"

America's stomach dropped slightly at the weight of the question. If he was to say no, what would happen to him? And would something worse happen if he said yes, yet failed? "What would happen?" he asked simply, already staying still unconsciously.

Once again, Ivan laughed. "You can't recognize a joke anymore?"

Blinking slowly, he just shook his head slightly as he started to follow Russia. "Apparently not." Neither of them said anything until they reached the kitchen.

They ate in silence, something they had grown accustomed to. When they were finished, Ivan picked up the dishes. "You can go back up to your room and continue studying."

"Thanks." With that, America got to his feet and walked up the stairs slowly, not in any rush. He had nothing to look forward to and nothing to run from so he decided to take his time going up the marble staircase. Running his hand along the railing, he took the time to look over the all the details of the stairs. There were intricate carvings into the stone and on the wall were some portraits of long dead people.

When he walked past Russia's room, out of habit America looked inside, even though he knew said person was downstairs cleaning the dishes. Alfred was minutely glad that he didn't have to do them himself until he realized that he could possibly be punished for not offering to do them. Shaking his head -a habit he had picked up from thinking too much about things he didn't want to- he just pushed his door open and sat back on his bed; not bothering to shut the door.

Picking up the paper that Ivan wrote his alphabet out on, Alfred studied it for a few more minutes, quickly remembering the similar letters and having slight difficulties with the similar looking and completely new ones.

When he was finished with the dishes, Russia went up to his room for a while. When it started getting dark outside, he got up and went to America's room. There he saw that Alfred was still studying. "Having any troubles?" The blond on the bed looked up and shook his head. Ivan nodded. "Well, you should probably be getting to sleep. And I think you should sleep with me tonight."

* * *

Ok, so the hunderedth reviewer will get a treat! They can request a short story, which ever Hetalia characters in which ever situation that will only take like one chapter to write, and we will write it! Yayayayay!

Alright, learning Russian! Д makes the D sound, and Ф makes the F sound!


	22. Chapter 22

As soon as Russia proposed his idea, it immediately brought a flashback to when his room was filled with snow and he was forced to sleep with him so that he wouldn't die. "Why? I won't freeze here. There's no reason to."

"Because I want you to. Is that not reason enough for my bitch?" Russia leaned against the door, completely at ease. If worst came to worst, he could threaten physical pain, or simply threaten to rape him with no preparation or lube. It was so simple having a pet.

At the less than loving -for lack of a better word- 'pet' name, America twitched slightly. It was a few, tense minutes on Alfred's behalf as he thought it over. Russia being Russia would just sentence him to death if he starting becoming more uncooperative and didn't follow him. With a quick shake, America placed the paper beside him and got out of his bed, eyes looking down the entire way to Ivan's side. "Let's go."

When they got to the bed, Russia took off his clothes, just leaving the underwear. Then he got in bed, and saw America was already there, still fully clothed. He looked terrified, as close to the edge as he could get without falling off. Ivan lay there, as calm as always. "Aren't you going to cuddle with me?"

Alfred just looked at Ivan with wide eyes. The way he had said it suggested that he wanted America to do so, and he had no way of knowing if it really was just a statement until he refused. Or he could just assume he expected him to go right to his side. Being raped again wasn't something he was looking forward to, so instead of putting his ass literally on the line, he slowly moved closer to Russia. He wasn't quite touching him, but he was still way to close for him to be comfortable.

Swallowing, he tried to breathe deeply in order to calm his racing heartbeat. Being so close to someone so unpredictable as Russia was causing Alfred's body to go on high alert: heart racing, adrenaline pumping and he started to sweat slightly.

"Do you not know the definition of cuddling? I was sure England would have taught you something like that. It means to fondle in the arms; hug tenderly. Not just be close to." Russia put his arm around Alfred's shoulders and brought him even closer, so that his head was resting on the large chest.

Until he had let go of his breath slowly, America didn't realize that he had even be holding it, to preoccupied with having his head on Russia's naked chest. If his heart was racing before, now it was seconds away from a full out heart attack. His stomach went into knots; his heart bouncing around his torso from fear. Also, his eyes had dilated wide and he had become super sensitive at every part of his body that was touching Ivan's strangely cool skin. Slowly, Alfred found himself matching the heart beat in his ear by regulating his breathing. He had still refused to 'cuddle' more with the larger man, but he had tried his best to calm himself down. After all, a scared 'pet' was an uncooperative one.

Russia gave a low laugh, moving Alfred's head on his chest. "So I have been inside you, but you being this near me otherwise has you frightened like a little girl? Perhaps you should sleep with me every night, so you get used to it."

"Please... No..." Alfred mumbled, not looking up at Russia's face, opting to just look down his smooth stomach idly. He didn't mean to defy Ivan; the words just slipped out before he could stop himself.

"Hm... Maybe I won't make you do that. It was just that when we last had sex, the look you gave me when I was leaving to my own room was so sad. So I thought you would like it if we slept together." He smiled in the dark, "And my big bed gets so lonely at night."

America clenched his hands but didn't say anything. He wanted to yell about how Russia was making things up and that he was _ecstatic_ that Ivan had left him. But, like with most of the things Alfred wanted to do or say, the instinct to stay alive stopped him. Going a few days with only being slightly embarrassed was better than anything that had happened to him so far.

Ivan put his arm around America's shoulders. "This should be comfortable while we sleep." He closed his eyes but stayed awake for a while, laughing to himself as he felt Alfred tense up every time he took a breath. The boy was so amusing, he really was. When sleep came, Russia dreamt of a field full of sunflowers, with a feisty blond in the middle.

Slowly but surely, Alfred could feel and hear Russia's breathing level out and deepen. Each breath Ivan took made his human pillow rise and lower, sending shocks down his spine. It was humiliating enough last time when he just had to sleep in the same bed as him, but even worse now that he had to actual sleep _on_ him.

It didn't even occur to him to just lightly lift Ivan's arm off of him and slip off into his own bed. Even if he did think to do that, he would immediately regret it when Russia decided it was a good time to rape or kill him. Instead, he just forced himself to stop thinking and even out his breathing to match the one under his head. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt that he was stuck in a field of snow, somehow freezing from the inside out.

.oOo.

America woke up slowly to find himself wrapped around Russia's broad body. Not only was his head on his chest, but his arms and legs had twined themselves around Ivan's torso and legs. Slow enough so he didn't wake the larger man up, but fast enough so he didn't freak out more, Alfred moved away from Russia, falling off the bed accidentally.

Waking up when he heard a large bump, Russia saw Alfred on the floor, rubbing his side. "Aww, you poor thing." Ivan reached down a hand and helped America stand up. "You can stay in bed for a while. In fact, why don't I bring you breakfast in bed!"

Pulling his hand away, America continued to rub his torso which was probably going to bruise. "It's ok. I can go downstairs." he didn't say it, but he just would have liked breakfast in _his_ room, but staying in Russia's bed would be terrible.

Putting on his clothes, Russia shrugged. "Fine, whatever. I just thought I would be nice." When he was fully dressed, he walked over to Alfred and lifted his chin. "But if you don't want me to be nice..." He left the threat open, wanting the silence to fill in the blank.

Without saying anything, America just looked down and when Russia let go of his face, crawled up onto the bed. Sitting cross-legged, he just looked at his feet, unable to meet Russia's eyes.

Smiling, he went downstairs, getting breakfast ready. When it was finished, he placed it on a tray and brought it up to his room, seeing Alfred sitting exactly like he had been before. "Here you go, breakfast in bed. Have you ever had that before?"

Alfred just nodded slightly, looking up at Russia. He still didn't meet his eyes, opting instead to look at his shoulder.

He placed the tray on America's lap. Then he went downstairs, having his own breakfast. When he was almost finished, he heard Alfred coming downstairs with his dishes. He placed them in the sink without saying a word. "So, what do you want to do today? Continue learning Russian?"

"Yes." he said, nodding his head again. He felt lucky that he wasn't being forced to do anything embarrassing yet, other than the unfortunate occurrence last night.

Ivan got out some books he had for learning Russian. They were children's books, but would work fine for the blond. "You may go up to your room. I have some things I must do." Alfred took the books and went upstairs with them. Then Ivan set to work.

After he grabbed the books, America went up to his room and started looking through them. He couldn't understand any of it yet, but he was still trying to pronounce them from what he knew of the letters. There were a few words that had seemed slightly familiar - as if Russia had said them before - but he had no idea what they were.

As he continued to sound out the words, his thoughts slowly started to slide from the Russian to the language's creator. Why exactly did he keep him around any more? It wasn't as if it was beneficial for him. In keeping him alive it just made it so he had to feed him and such. If he just killed America like he probably wanted to, it would be easier for him. Not that he wanted to be murdered as coldly as Lithuania. Yet...

When dinner was ready, Ivan called America down. He went in the kitchen, as that was where they had always eaten. "Hет, no, we are not eating here tonight. Dinner is in the dinning room." Apprehensively, the blond followed into the dining room. The long, oak table was covered with delicious-looking dishes, and in the glasses at two of the seats was a very expensive red wine. Ivan motioned to one of the chairs. "Please, take a seat."

America took in the table with wide eyes. There were a multitude of extravagant dishes that were all steaming invitingly. Even though he shook his head slightly, he still walked over to one of the seats silently. After just thinking about how pointless it was for Russia to continue keeping him here, seeing all this food just made him even more confused. "Why?" he asked simply, gesturing to the expanse of food.

"Tonight is special. You have been here for six months. I figured a nice dinner would be appropriate." Ivan sat down at his chair. "Do you want to say grace? I don't usually do it, but once in a while is fine."

"Six... Months...?" Alfred asked slowly, cocking his head to the side slightly. It made sense... But it felt like he had been here for much longer. He looked back down at the food, his eyebrows furrowing. Forgetting the question, America started immersing him in his thoughts. Six months was a long time, and it had slowly spread throughout his body the severity of it. Half a year was a lot of time for Russia to change the world in his favour.

"Yes, six months. So we celebrate!" He lifted his glass. "A toast to you being here!" He frowned slightly when America didn't raise his glass. "You don't want to toast you being alive to be here?"

Raising his glass, he just watched as Russia took a generous sip of the fragrant wine. As Ivan raised his eyebrow, Alfred took a small sip of the expensive wine, its flavour washing through his mouth. He never was a wine person -preferring to have a beer or two with Canada or occasionally England and Prussia- but America could tell it was good quality. After all, before all this had happened he did have California, who had continually amazed him with all the wine he had made. It hadn't been _that_ long that he had forgotten his states name's. Well, at least not all of them.

They started eating the perfectly prepared food in silence. When they were finished, Russia got the dessert. "I had planned on making a Russian dessert, but figured you would like apple pie better." He put it on the table, steaming. "I hope you like it." He smiled, resembling a fifties house wife for a second.

The second the pie was placed on the table, all of America's senses were trained on it. He started salivating as he inhaled deeply, watching the steam rise. With it, long forgotten memories of picnics and fireworks ran through his mind; yet he was unable to place a name on the festival. It seemed like it was at one time very important to him, so it made him frown a bit. Forgetting everything had also helped in pushing him to the stage he was in now.

When they were finished with the dessert, Ivan took out a box from his pocket. He got up and walked over to the other side of the table, and knelt in front of America. "Alfred... I have to ask you something." He held up the box. "Will you marry me?"

* * *

Ok, so I know everyone will hate us for leaving it there, so I think this would be a good place to put a poem I wrote about Russia!

Headless stuffed animals;  
Wingless model planes;  
Wheel-less toy cars.  
Broken toys adorned my room,  
Only new ones were whole.  
Most wanted to throw them away.  
They never understood.  
Am I different?  
Am I strange?  
My favourite toys are broken.  
Why do you think I have you?  
My favourite broken toy,  
By far.  
Now, there is no one to throw you away,  
Thinking you were useless,  
Just because you were broken.  
No one would dare throw away my toy.  
The threat of death keeps them away.  
Of course, I would never kill _you_.  
A body is only fun till it stinks.  
But I will continue playing with you,  
No matter your flaws.  
A scar on your hand;  
A burn on your butt;  
A defenceless look in your eye.  
My last broken toy.

Translation! Нет is pronounced Nyet, and means no.


	23. Chapter 23

Without answering, America jumped out of his seat and started walking away backwards, all the while staring at Russia with his mouth hanging open and eyes open wide. Floundering for a second, Alfred watched as Russia stood up and walked toward him. At that moment, as if on instinct, he turned around and ran. He had no idea where he was going, only that he wanted to be as far away as possible.

So intent on getting away, he quickly shook his head, trying to forget what just happened and ran full speed into an expensive looking vase. Falling over onto the shards, Alfred ignored his thoughts and concentrated on the pain instead, trying in vain to forget about just how much trouble he would be in after this. Curling up on his side and digging the pieces further in, he allowed himself to cry; blood and tears falling to the floor. If he died now, at least it would be better than what could have just happened.

Russia smirked. It had been a while since he could smirk at America. He had been so obedient as of late. "Alfred, Alfred, Alfred. You of all people should know that no matter how far you run, it will not be far enough." He crouched down beside the bleeding man and picked up a shard of the broken vase. "I rather liked this vase, you know. I had put people's hearts in it in the middle ages. You will have to pay." America said nothing, just continued to cry on the floor. Ivan took the sharp shard and cut open the back of Alfred's shirt, also cutting the skin. "Did you really think for a second that I actually wanted to marry you?"

Alfred just curled up tighter and tried to ignore as his shirt was cut up. "I...don't..." he said shakily, leaving his sentence hanging. That was it. Russia was now going to take out a gun and shoot him; ending his pet's life and releasing America from hell. Either that or he would take the vase shards and slice his body up into pieces.

"You don't? Don't what, my little bitch? Don't want to die?" There was a slight whimper from America, and Ivan figured it out. "Or is it that you _do_ want to die?" When Alfred looked up, tears in his eyes, Russia knew. "Well, I won't let you die. Not when you want it so much." He took the box and opened it, revealing a ring. But it wasn't a normal ring. It was about an inch in diameter, the band itself was relatively thick for a ring, and it had a ball in it. "As you can see, this is not for your finger. It is for a piercing!"

His eye's going wide again, America brushed the tears out of his eyes and sat up slowly, blood dripping down his side. He had nothing to say to Russia. No words could express the emotional and mental pain he had been feeling for the last half year. The ring had frightened him somewhat since he had no idea where Russia was thinking of putting it.

"The piercing you are getting," Ivan said, taking out some disinfectant and applied it on the ring, "is called the Prince Albert." He also started sterilizing a needle. "It goes right," he undid Alfred's pants and reached into his underwear, fingering the limp cock, "here." He finished, smiling victoriously.

"No," Alfred started, shying away from the touch and crawling back until his torso hit the wall, "no, no, no, no, NO!" Yelling, he shimmed his way to the wall so that he was standing up. Now his eyes were wide with fear and shimmering from tears threatening to release.

"Come on, Alfred. In all truth, it hardly hurts. It is the most popular of male genital piercings, because of it's mild pain and quick healing time. Also, it increases sexual pleasure." Russia grabbed the retreating leg and pulled him back. "Now, don't tell me that I will have to tie you up again?"

"How do _you_ know?!" Alfred yelled again, a hard gleam finding its way into his eyes. He hadn't stuck up for himself for a while, and it was filling him with false hope. _Anything_ was better than this! "Please! Just..." he swallowed, unable to believe he was actually suggesting it, "just rape me instead. Isn't that what you want?"

Russia laughed loudly at the pathetic man. "Well, thank you for the invitation. But I think that will have to wait for a while. You are supposed to resign from sexual activities for a week after getting this piercing." From under the table he got some rope and tied America's hands behind his back. "I wouldn't struggle if I were you." He brought the sterilized needle up to the end of Alfred's shaft. "You know, it took me a while deciding to do the Prince Albert. I had also considered others, mostly because they were more painful, but I like the look of this one. There was, of course, one other reason, but we will get to that when you are fully healed." He took out the cannula he had in his pocket and put it through Alfred's hole, lining it up inside with where he wanted the needle to come out. He looked at America, who's face was looking determinedly at the wall. Putting the needle through the tube of the cannula, Russia said, "This will hurt a little." Then he pushed the needle through the thin skin.

He heard a small squeak from above, but pushed the cannula through the new hole. Then he took the ring and took off the ball, opening it. He attached it to the end of the cannula and pulled it back, getting the ring in easily. He put the ball back on and swabbed it with cleaner. "There you go, it wasn't that bad, now was it?"

Alfred continued to look at the wall determinedly, trying desperately not to yell out in pain. Russia had been right: it didn't hurt as much as other things that he had done to him, but it was still horribly humiliating. His face flushed as Ivan looked over the piercing, cleaning it so it wouldn't become infected. "What's the point..." he mumbled, slipping down the wall with his head hanging and eyes closed.

"The point? Good question. There are many points. I wanted to do this to you. It looks perfect on your dick. It marks you as mine. And many more, but mostly because you have no right to say no. Oh, by the way, you will probably have to sit down to take a piss. For now, at least." When he was finished cleaning it, Russia bent down and kissed the metal ring, then running his tongue over the rest of the head. "Don't be alarmed if your pee has blood in it for the next few days."

Shuddering as Ivan licked the sore head of his cock, America fell all the way onto the floor. He was beyond embarrassed now. He had a brand on his butt and now a ring in his dick that had all but yelled 'I belong to Russia'. With no way to escape though, there was no reason to get upset. Yes, it was humiliating, but there was nothing he could do about it. Once Ivan wanted to do something to him, he was going to do it. Even if he had to add in a few punishments along the way.

His arms behind his back and his head hung low, Alfred mumbled. "How do I take care of it?"

"That's fine, I'll take care of it for you!" Ivan smiled like a child, amused at the prospect of the upcoming 'treatments' for his pet. Well, obviously it would have to be cleaned a few times a day so that it wouldn't get infected. And, also, he had only used a ten gauge ring. They were usually stretched to at least six, to avoid a separate stream of urine.

"...Fine." Muttering, he stood back up with difficulty, ignoring the new cuts on his butt from the shards of the forgotten vase. "Please untie my hands."

Ivan did so, and watched America go up to his room, no doubt to sulk. He looked down to the floor, covered in blood. "Damn, now I have to clean up blood." He got to work on it. After all the blood he had cleaned up, he had made it an art form. After this, he should really check if the piercing had swelled or anything like that. After all, it would be for the good of the patient...

When he walked away and up the stairs, Alfred hadn't bothered to tuck himself back into his pants and underwear. The piercing had made it too sore to be able to deal with the chafing. Once he was in his room, he flopped nosily onto his bed, butt first. Then he continued changing positions, trying to find a way so that it would hurt the least. Finally deciding to lie on his back, America shut out his thoughts and fell into yet another fitful sleep. This time he dreamt of needles, blinding pain and shattering smiles.

* * *

Sorry this chapter is so short!


	24. Chapter 24

Happy Halloween!

* * *

Ivan shook America awake. "Time to clean it." He explained. He left out the part about Alfred twisting around so much he almost fell off the bed. "And, although I like you without pants, like I said, we can't have sexual interactions for a week." He smiled, cleaning the piercing, which had some dried blood. The tossing in his dreams had probably tugged on the ring.

Glaring slightly up at Russia, Alfred didn't bother with a retort. Instead, he just sat up and allowed Russia to look it over, noting dully that there was a bit of blood on it. Just as Ivan had predicted, the first time he had gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he had to sit. Also, the urine had stung painfully, making him wince. He had also noticed the slight pink tinge to it.

When the cleaning solution was run over the sensitive area, he just frowned and closed his eyes, trying to ignore him. "Why do you care?" he asked, already thinking of the answer. He had already asked him before, but it was bugging him even more now.

"Care about what?" Russia said, preoccupied. "This cute little cock here? I wouldn't want my precious joy stick to get infected, now would I?"

"About everything." he started, his mind focusing on his thoughts alone. "About me, about the world. Why do you care? What do you possibly have to gain by keeping me alive? Why not just kill me? You still have everyone else. You said yourself that Canada and England would make better pets. Why me?" By the end of it, his eyes had glazed over and his body stiffened.

"I didn't say they would be better. I said they would do. But you are just so cute when you give me that hateful look, I can't help wanting to... eat you up." He gave a long lick up the now-hard shaft in his hand, being careful to not touch the piercing. "Because it's fun to watch you break slowly, under my thumb." He moved the piercing so that it wouldn't attach itself to the skin over time. "Don't you agree that it looks perfect on you?"

America just turned his head to look out the window instead of at Russia. "Whatever..." Still immersed in his thoughts, he hadn't reacted to his erect cock. "You still didn't answer my question. Why do you care about me? Yeah, you want to break me, but what about after that? Are you just going to throw me out like Lithuania?"

Stopping, Alfred continued to stare at the wall, his eyes going glassy. "Why do you care so much? Why do you fucking care!!" With that, he turned quickly to look Russia in the eye, who was still kneeling between his legs.

"Why do you care about Matthew and Arthur? Does love need logic, Alfred?" Finished with the cleaning, Ivan stood up and kissed America quickly on the lips. "Of course, I also loved Lithuania... and _that_ didn't turn out all that well..." He walked out of the room, seemingly deep in thought.

Watching Russia leave the room, tears slowly started falling from his eyes. Alfred took off his glasses and placed them on his bed side table as he wiped his eyes off. Stupid Russia making everything more complicated than it needed to be. Every time he tried getting a straight answer from the taller blond, he would just get an elusive reply. How was he supposed to understand how his mind worked?

America then looked down at his new 'problem'. Sighing, he just lay down on his side and ignored it, thinking of the pain Russia had caused him in order for it to go down. As much as he tried to think of all the terrible things, his mind kept returning to all the small gestures Russia had been giving him: small kisses, casual touches and confusing statements. Ivan obviously did care, but to what extent? Did he actually love America? Or was he just trying to keep Alfred from wanting to kill himself? After all, if he was alone with no one to care, he wouldn't have any reason to keep him and the scraps of his country alive.

Russia went downstairs and sat on the couch. He picked up the book he had been reading lately. Torture methods of the 18th century. He laughed whenever he came upon ones that he had invented.

After a while, he put down the book and went to the kitchen. What to have for breakfast today? Perhaps bread and butter, with some salmon caviar on top. He laughed, remembering the first time he had served Alfred caviar. He had been amazed, and even more so when he learnt that it was rather common in Russia to have caviar.

After a few moments of self-inflicted depression, Alfred stood up and made his way out of his room, leaving his glasses behind. He still didn't have any pants on and the piercing had started to throb slightly. Making his way down to the kitchen for some breakfast, he wasn't surprised to see Russia there already, eating red stuff -caviar, he corrected himself- on top of bread. It had surprised him that Ivan had liked such strange stuff, always thinking that only France and Japan did.

Reaching into the fridge while ignoring Russia's gaze, America grabbed a few pieces of cooked meat, an apple and two slices of bread. The last time he had a giant, proper North American breakfast was before the Cold War had started, so he wasn't about to start now. Sitting a few seats away from Ivan, Alfred munched determinedly on his food, trying in vain to stop thinking about the Russian.

"Your turning around at night from nightmares won't help the piercing, you know." Ivan said between bites of bread. "You should sleep with me from now on. You don't seem to thrash about when you are with me, just attach yourself." He smiled over at the other man at the table. He really was quite cute, almost always with a slight blush on his cheeks, which just got redder whenever Russia said anything embarrassing. Just like they were doing now.

"I refuse. I'm not going to sleep with you any more." Alfred muttered as he took another bite of the food. "I don't care anymore, and you can't possibly care either."

"If you don't care, then you shouldn't care where you sleep. And besides, who says I don't care?" Russia feigned a hurt look. "Of course I care who I sleep with. Just like I care if you starve yourself for some stupid reason, or die of infection, or freeze to death. I rather like having company here. It was getting lonely all by myself. So yes, I think you should sleep with me."

Alfred just stared at Russia with dull eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I am still curious as to why you think you have a choice in the matter. Anyway, go clean something today. Maybe mop all the floors. You don't have to do the basement." Ivan took the dishes to the sink and started rinsing them. "And be careful to not catch your piercing on anything."

"I'm not going to do it. I'm your 'pet', not your slave. If you want someone to do your dirty work get Latvia or Estonia. Then you can kill them in front of me and break me further like you love so much." He just continued to stare at Russia's back. America was far beyond caring at this point. Now he was just trying to get Russia upset enough so that he might accidentally 'break' him physically, leaving him to die.

"Who ever said you weren't my slave? I never said you weren't. I said you were my pet and bitch, but that does not exclude slave." He looked at the Prince Albert piercing with a smile. "And don't you know that the ring is sometimes referred to as a slave ring?" He continued doing the dishes. "But I want you to clean the house, so you will. You have before, I see no problem."

Grunting quietly, America stood up. He figured if he got it done quickly, and didn't do a good job, then maybe it could piss Russia off more. Now instead of being the cooperative pet Russia probably wanted, he wanted to be as uncooperative as possible. If Alfred turned into Russia's worst pet ever, then he could finally die.

He walked over to the closet and grabbed a mop and a bucket and filled it full of water. Before Russia was finished with the dishes, he had filled the bucket full of soap and water and started to savagely clean the floor, leaving it soaking wet.

"You should really try harder to please me. I will not do as you wish and kill you, but I can make your life extremely painful." Russia looked at the horribly mopped floor. "If you want to die so much, why not do it yourself, I wonder? Too much of a, oh, what was that word that you used to use so much? Oh yes, pussy. Too much of a pussy to do it yourself?"

"Fine then, do it. If I'm a pussy then I shouldn't be able to take anything you can give me even if I do die." Even with his strong words, Alfred started cleaning the floor carefully. He still took his anger out on the floor, but he had made sure to do it properly.

"You want me to torture you?" Russia raised his eyebrow and left the kitchen, heading to the basement. Once there, he entered his torture room and picked up a pair of iron shoes. He brought them upstairs and dropped them on the newly cleaned floor. "If you want torture, then wear these. They have nails in the heels. I wonder if you can stay on your tiptoes for the rest of the day? And, I hope you have had your tetanus shot, because they probably have accumulated some rust."

Alfred just glared at Russia and placed the mop and bucket to the side. Going back, he picked up the shoes and felt just how awkward and heavy they were. With a slightly apprehensive look, America sat down on a stool and looked at the shoes for a second longer before bringing it up to put it on.

"Are you really going to do it?" Ivan laughed a little. "You really are masochistic. I just wanted to show you how it could be if you wanted to defy me more, you don't actually have to wear them. Unless you want to. It is up to you, I guess." He sat down and waited to see what Alfred was going to do.

Just as Russia finished talking, Alfred threw the shoes to the side and quickly ran off. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he ran all the way up to the room with the fire place he had slept in front of before. Laying on the floor, America willed his heart beat to slow down as he waited for Ivan to look for him.

Where did the idiot go? He wasn't in his room, and that seemed to be his safe place. So was he hiding again? Would he ever learn?

Of course, he could just leave him. But when he had run away, America had looked like he was going to cry. Ivan couldn't pass up the chance to see Alfred's tear stained face! He might even get a picture. So he went looking for him. He defiantly wouldn't be in the room he had hidden in before. And, if he had any brains to speak of, the smartest place would most likely be either in the basement, or in Russia's room, but this was America. He wouldn't put much thought into it.

Also, when he had run away, Ivan thought he had heard the creaking of the stairs to the third floor. So, he went up there, and saw the door to the room with the fireplace open. So he walked in, to see his prey curled up on the floor.

Alfred curled up tighter as he saw the blurry form of Russia standing over in the doorway. He knew he would probably look for his 'pet', but it still didn't mean he wanted to see the giant. Shivering slightly, he swore Ivan could smell his poorly disguised fear.

Walking further into the room, Russia went in front of the pitiful man on the floor. "What, a little demonstration has you frightened as a little child? No wonder everyone has forgotten about you already! Your brother is more of a man than you are now." He gave a loud laugh, shaking his head slightly.

Shaking his head, America muttered. "Stop..." He sat up, looking at Ivan with hard eyes. "Stop pretending you give a flying fuck about anyone but yourself. Matthew is more of a man then you will ever be."

"You think so? Because last time he spent the night here, he reacted very much like a girl. Even more than you do!" He knelt in front of the fire place, starting a small flame. "Yes, saying things like 'No, we shouldn't. What if we're seen?' and making cute noises when he was touched in places-"

"Shut up! Shut up!" he yelled, standing up glaring up at Russia, his eyes flaring. "He would never do _anything_ with you!" As much as he didn't feel it was worth it, Matthew was still his brother -even if he was a backstabbing, betraying one- and he couldn't handle Russia lying about what he 'did'.

"On the contrary, we have done many... _things_ in the past. I now know intimately his erotic face as he climaxes. It is quite different from yours, even if your features are the same." Ivan poked at the embers, making the flames roar.

"Shut the fuck up!" Alfred screamed, stomping his foot like a child. "You couldn't have done that with him! He would have resisted and stopped you! You can't rape anyone but..." he finished lamely, his eyes starting to glisten.

"-but you?" Russia finished the sentence, a small smile on his face. "Really, Alfred, jealousy gets you no where in life. A pet should not be so greedy."

"Fuck you!" he screamed again, tears now starting to fall down his face. "Fuck. You." his face was contorted in emotional pain as he fell to his knees. Sobs started to wrack through his body as his heart broke down further. It didn't take much, but he was already so close to a break down.

There was the face he had been waiting for! And now to make his move. Russia left the fireplace and went to Alfred. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around the crying man, comforting him with his warmth. "It's alright." He whispered in his ear, playing the role of a caring lover perfectly. It didn't matter if he had been the one that made him cry in the first place.

"Get. Off. Of me!" Alfred yelled, sobbing after each word. He pushed against Russia weakly, trying to get him to let go. "You don't fucking care! No one cares! Nothing is alright, what do you know!?" Still crying, America tried standing only to be held down by Ivan.

Russia stood up, still holding Alfred's hand tightly. When the American turned around, Ivan looked straight into his eyes, glaring. "Alright, you keep saying that I don't care, and it's really starting to piss me off. What say do you have in what I do and don't care about?" There it was! That look, uncertainty! Up till now, Alfred had been so certain about whatever he believed in. Until now.

His tears had almost stopped, but they were still all over his face. "You couldn't care about me. No one does. You said it yourself." Confusion was evident on his face as his eyes narrowed slightly.

"I do not include me in saying that. Why would I bother keeping you alive if I didn't care about you?"

Alfred shook his head, stray tears falling from his chin. "You don't care about _me_ though. You just want a 'pet' to fuck and torture." He refused to look at Russia's eyes, instead looking down at his neck, watching it with tear blurred eyes.

A little laugh escaped Ivan's throat. "Well, yes it is quite nice having a pet, but not just any pet will do. You are the best pet I have ever had. And that is not because I can torture and rape you, because I can do that with any pet."

"Then why? Why care? I'd be better off dead now." Alfred just continued to stare intently at Russia's neck, ignoring the wetness of his face and the new tears that were threatening to escape.

"No, you're better off alive. Because I love you, and what would the use be loving someone who is dead?" It was extremely difficult to love a dead person. That is why Ivan always tried his hardest to keep them alive, always knew just how much blood they could lose but still live. Always knew the full extent of the bodies capabilities.

"L-love...?" Alfred paled instantly at Ivan's words. He tried to back away, but the grip on his wrist was too strong. "No...No... Nobody can love me! No one does!"

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again. I love you. You can deny it as much as you want, because that doesn't change the truth." Ivan let his hand go. "You know, Alfred, you should be glad that you are not the first person I have loved. If you were, and I was not already used to people not believing me, I might get very angry and take it out on your body." He gave a small smile. "They never found the body of my first love."

As soon as he said 'I love you' again, America's body shook. Once again, he was crying slightly as Ivan finished talking. Instead of running away as his hand was let go, Alfred just stood and stared; this time in Russia's eyes. He still couldn't see them without his glasses but his eyes were showing the deep, emotional pain he was going through. "If you care about me..." he stopped, unsure of how to continue.

"If I care about you... go on." Ivan urged slightly, interested in where this conversation was going.

Swallowing thickly, America continued, hanging his head. "If you care about me, then why won't you let me go? Or even let me see England and Canada again." Alfred continued, not letting Russia interrupt. "If they're really your allies, you should have no problem bringing them here for a bit. Just as long as you keep to the original promise." Yes, it had been a while, but he still hadn't forgotten the reason why he was in here in the first place.

"Well, isn't that obvious? If they were here, you would pay more attention to them than to me, and I would be jealous. In such a situation, who could predict my actions?" Picking up the fire stoker and swung it in the air. "I might loose control and,' He stabbed a near pillow, white feathers coming out, "kill them." He finished.

Alfred watched Russia with disinterest. "You'd have to follow the promise then." He couldn't believe he was saying it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "If you killed one or both of them, then you'd have to let me go back to America."

"I do not remember making consequences if I break the promise. I have no obligation to listen to you at all. And, if you want me to keep my promise, then you will understand why I cannot let them come here." Russia smiled. "You would sacrifice the ones you love just for the sake of leaving here? Or perhaps you do not love them anymore, and are simply using them as an excuse to stay here."

"Fine then." Drained, he allowed himself to lay back down on the feather covered ground in front of the fireplace. "Then I wont believe you."

Faking a hurt expression, Russia walked to the door. "That hurts, right here." He exaggerated pointing to his chest. Then he left his pet in the room, warming by the fire. When he was almost down the hall, he called, "Don't forget! I have to clean your dick soon!"

America didn't even watch as Russia walked out of the room, jumping only slightly as his loud voice boomed through the hallway. The tears on his face had dried up from the fire as he curled up into a ball again on the uncomfortable floor. He stayed there for a few more minutes before he got back up and went to his room. Everything that had happened lately had confused him even more than he already was.

Russia had told him that he loved him before, but now it was even more of an impact. Ivan was the only person who still cared about him enough to keep him alive, even if he did rape and torture Alfred. Matthew and Arthur had given up on him where as Russia continued to feed and keep him hanging onto life. Why was everything he believed to be true at one point turned on its head?

He walked past Ivan's door silently save for the telltale squeak. His dick was still out in the open as it had been all day and he had just noticed the slight crusting around the piercing. When he reached his room, he continued to observe it as he sat on his bed. It was a bit awkward considering he had never had one before and now had to sit down to go to the bathroom. Also, the temperature of the piercing would change with the surroundings since it was metal, which made it all the more strange. Other than that, it wasn't really a hindrance once he would be able to wear pants and underwear again.


	25. Chapter 25

Stupid, incompetent underlings, can't convince one single country to join the winning side. Making him go there in person, when he could be raping his pet.

Russia stepped into the dark room, which matched his dark mood. In the corner was Ludwig, tied up with a noticeable black eye. He was hardly even bleeding, and those idiots said they tried everything! All they had to make him do was sign a bloody paper!

"Well, Ludwig. Captured, and you are willing to go through torture just because you don't want to fight alongside me?"

"I am not an idiot. I would not be fighting alongside you, I would be fighting under you." He glared up from the ground. "I do not want to be controlled by you." Germany spit on the ground, some blood evident in his saliva. "Besides, in the end, you would make me become one with you."

"Hm, yes that is indeed a possibility. But others agreed to join me. For example..." Ivan lifted his arm, a silent signal. A figure emerged from the back of the room, obviously terrified. He stood by Russia.

Ludwig gasped. "I-Italy?"

"Ve, hi Germany." The shorter nation looked to the ground.

"So you see, Italy has joined me. Which means I can do anything I wish, and he will have no right to say no to me." Ivan put his arm around him, and lightly felt his curled hair. Italy reacted immediately, jumped slightly and a blush grew on his face.

Ludwig's eyes grew wide. "Russia, stop! Alright, I'll... I'll join you." He looked to the ground, ashamed. Russia took his hand off Italy's shoulder and smiled.

"Perfect." He turned and walked to the door, and spoke with the guard. "You may untie him, and get him to sign the treaty. Then send a letter to all of his troops, informing them." He took two steps out the door, but an idea occurred to him. Russia entered the room once again, the guard just about to free Germany. "I can do it." The guard left, taking Italy with him. "Ludwig, since we are now partners, I have something I would like to ask of you." When Germany didn't reply, Ivan continued. "You are very skilled at crafting things, like metal and such, correct?"

"I suppose..."

"Perfect. I need something very precise made for me."

.oOo.

Looking intently at the book in his hands, Alfred tried to decipher the Russian letters. He had started to slowly learn small words and phrases in his vain attempt to learn Russian. It wasn't so much that he wanted to learn it as it was that he figured Ivan would be amazed with him for learning on his own. The books were just the children's books Ivan had given to him before, but it was still helping him learning somewhat.

It had been another uneventful month since America had his breakdown. They had gone back into the normal routine of leaving each other alone except for when Russia had to clean his piercing and meals until he had told America that he was leaving for a bit. Russia then had left him alone for a little while and still hadn't come back. It didn't worry him that he was gone, but he still felt a little bit apprehensive about being in the house alone.

America perked up slightly as he thought he heard the tell-tale sound of helicopter roters spinning through the air. Turning around on his chair, he looked out his bedroom window to see the familiar black copter in the sky getting closer and closer. Without him realizing, his heart starting beating a bit faster; not from fear, but something else. Was it... Anticipation? That wouldn't make sense though, since he still detested the Russian's guts. Or at least he kept trying to get himself to believe that as his heart started pounding in his ears. Not just a few days ago did he finally get over his pointless, self-inflicted depression. He figured that as long as he was stuck to stay with Ivan, he might as well try and get through it as painlessly as possible.

Slowly but surely, the helicopter landed in the middle of the courtyard where it had stood for some time. Blowing away the ever-present snow (even though there seemed to be less of it lately) the wind revealed the short, hardy grass underneath. As Russia stepped out, Alfred looked back to the book in his lap, placing it to the side. He wanted it to be a surprise that he was starting to learn more Russian. Slipping his pj bottoms on, he lay back on his bed, ready to feign sleep if need be. He didn't know why he was being so passive, but it had seemed to keep him out of trouble and that was ok with him.

The sparkling floor was the first thing Ivan noticed as he opened the door. It hadn't been this clean when he had left, had it? Well, that just went to prove how broken his toy was. His gloriously broken toy.

He walked upstairs. The piercing would need cleaning, obviously. The heavy door opened, and he saw his pet on the bed. "Alfred. Wake up."

Rubbing his eye as if the tall blond had woken him up, Alfred sat up. "What is it?" he asked quietly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Russia still had the unmistakable smell of the cold air outside on his coat, making America breathe it in from a distance.

"Did you miss me? Oh, wait, I was supposed to say 'Hi honey, I'm home!'" Ivan laughed as America rolled his eyes. "Take off your pants, it's time for a cleaning."

Alfred just bit his cheek slightly and stood up so he could take off the pjs he had just put on. As soon as they were off completely, he just sat back on the edge of his bed, looking up at Russia.

"Mmm, what a lovely sight." Ivan proceeded cleaning the area. It was healing quite nicely. It may even be time for the next step. He put on the liquid and smiled as America shivered. "I got a new cleaning solution. This one is supposed to... tingle."

"Tingle?" he asked, looking away from the hand on his cock. "How?"

"Just like tingling lube. Don't worry, you'll feel it soon." Russia smiled as he put on more solution.

"What do you mean like lube?" America exclaimed. He continued to just sit there even though he wanted to push from Russia's grasp. "What are you doing to me?" By now, he had definitely felt something strange. The tingling sensation that Russia had said would happen started to set in and spread through his dick.

"I am simply cleaning your piercing. Ah, I see it is working." Done with the cleaning, Ivan wrapped his hand around the semi-erect shaft and slowly pumped up and down. "How does it feel?"

"Tch." Looking off to the side and out the window, Alfred tried ignoring the lazy pace Russia had set on his growing erection. "Won't this be bad for the piercing?" he asked somewhat snidely.

"You can have sexual encounters a week after it is pierced, and that is if the one with the piercing will be doing the entering. It safe to jerk off a few days afterwards." Russia leaned in and kissed Alfred quickly on the lips. "It has been a month, so I think it will be fine."

Turning his head away from Russia's lips, he just continued to sit there, letting Russia give him a handjob. America hadn't been touched for a while, and he hadn't done anything himself for fear of getting an infection or something that Ivan would notice. Because of that, he was extremely sensitive, his cock becoming swollen and dark with blood after only a few moments.

"It looks like you are enjoying yourself. Or at least one part of you is." Russia smiled as he bent down and liked the precum off the tip. Alfred shivered and grew bigger still, so Ivan took the whole thing into his mouth, expertly bringing his pet to orgasm.

America came hard into Russia's mouth, stifling his moan as he did so. As he swallowed the cum, Alfred reached down and grabbed his pyjama bottoms from the ground and started to pull them up.

"I was getting quite hungry. Thank you for dinner!" Ivan wiped his mouth and left the room. In his own room, he sat at the desk and pulled out his next piece of fun. Should he do it tomorrow? Yes, that would be good. Tomorrow it was!

After Russia left his room, his entire face flushed red; all the blood that was in his cock rushing up to his face. Alfred's now flaccid dick was still tingling somewhat as he drifted off to an actual slumber. What a way to be greeted.

.oOo.

"Cleaning time" Russia smiled, holding up to bottle of solution. Alfred silently took off his pants and sat down. "So, since it has been a month, I'm going to take it out so it can be cleaned really well, alright?"

Nodding, America watched as Russia took out the metal ring. It felt and looked weird to not have anything in the tip of his penis, but at the same time it felt as if a strange weight had been placed on his heart instead.

"You know, I've wanted to do something for a while, and now that we have the ring out for a while, I think this is a good time to try it." Ivan smiled at America's confused expression, and he continued as he grabbed something long and thin. "I think we should try sounding!"

"Sounding?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side a bit and narrowing his eyes. He didn't like the look of the strange object, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to know what it was used for.

"You've never heard of it? Well, simply, it is pleasuring the urethra by putting this," he held up the rod, "up your dick, sort of like the catheter."

"You want to put that," he said slowly, pointing to the rod, "up my cock to _'pleasure my urethra'?!? _No way!" America started to back up on his bed, covering his exposed dick with his long shirt as much as he could. Sure, having Russia be away had left him a bit lonesome, but having this happen to him? Nothing would seem better than if he just decided to leave him again.

"Well, as I have said numerous times before, you don't have a choice. Don't worry, I won't put it as deep as most people do. A lot of men go as far as the bladder!" Getting out a bottle of water based lube, Ivan put it on the sounding rod

Alfred just shook his head, going far enough back that his head and back touched the wall. "No! Please! Don't do it!"

"It is either this, or I tie you down, get a bigger sounding rod, put it as far as it can go, and leave you there for an hour." Which would be quite fun. Perhaps if he had done this the first week Alfred had come here, he would have had to end up doing that. But, alas, this was going to have to be the way.

Tensing up for a second, he then allowed himself to loosen up and close his eyes for a moment. "Ok then. Do it. But I won't enjoy it!" He glared up at Russia who was smiling as he always did.

"Well, if you had told me that earlier, I could have gotten the curved one, since you plan on not getting hard. But I got the straight one, just in case. Silly me." Russia took the limp cock in his hand, and placed the end of the rod to the tip, letting the sounding wand's own weight push it in. It entered slowly, with no force behind it, but it was better this way than tear the urethra. "I think to the end of the penis will be good for today."

America's eyes screwed shut as he felt the intruding object make it's way through his urethra. This way he couldn't tell if Russia was pushing it in or not, but it was better than looking at his sparkling violet eyes. It continued to go further and further in, making him feel uncomfortable. So far it had just helped to make himself more embarrassed then usual; no 'pleasure' spiking through his system.

When it was far enough in, Russia took a toothpick and put it in the hole of the piercing. When it stopped because of the rod, he took a pen and made a small marking on the toothpick, where it came out of the skin. Then he started taking out the rod slowly, and when he felt the toothpick move slightly so he knew the rod was at that point, he made a marking on the rod where it came out of the cock. Taking both the toothpick and rod out completely, he smiled. "Well, it looks like you enjoyed it a little, after all!" Ivan motioned to the semi-erect cock.

"Shuddup." He muttered, opening his eyes slowly. He saw -and felt- that his cock had gone a little bit hard, but not enough to actually be pleasurable. He fell onto his bed on his side and curled up, once again shutting his eyes and trying to ignore Russia.

"Aren't you forgetting something? I still haven't put the ring back in." Russia said, holding up the ring in question. But he put it down on the bed, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a similar ring, with one obvious difference. "But, you see, with this type of piercing, it is actually more comfortable the thicker it is." He smiled, holding up the 8 gauge ring. One size bigger than the 10 gauge ring before.

Opening one eye slowly, Alfred just looked up at Russia with a cold stare. "I don't want it back in. Leave me alone."

"Why do you still needlessly try to defy me? You should know by now that resistance is futile." Ivan once again grabbed the cock and fit the ring in place. There was a little trouble getting it in the smaller hole, so he put some of the lube on it. After that, it went in without problem. "There!"

Wincing as the thicker ring was fit into his piercing hole, he just buried his head into his pillow. Once again, he tried to ignore Russia so that he would just let him be. 'Why was I excited for him to come back yesterday?' he thought, 'I knew he'd do stuff like this to me, so why?'

"Well, we should let that be. It will be about a week or two before it should be stretched again." Russia walked out of the room, headed to his own. Once there, he started a letter to Germany.

Ludwig,

I have the measurements.


	26. Chapter 26

Alfred was reading one of the few remaining English books Russia had in his library. He had done a sort of inventory on them, finding that there was only sixteen in the entire room. Most of them were old war journals ranging from centuries before America was found to a few from World War II. There were two that were actual novels, and that was what he was reading.

He continued reading, using the summer light from his window. The snow had melted away and had let Alfred see all of the grass and small shrubs covering Russia's yard. It wasn't so much that he was enjoying the story as it was helping him forget about just how confused he was about everything lately. Russia had continued to clean his piercing and feed him, but he had slowly become more and more 'casually' touchy. Light brushes on his arm, small kisses and hugs had become common; and frankly it made him feel awkward. He didn't want Russia touching him all the time, but it had strangely felt... Good, like he wasn't some undesirable thing. America just didn't like it when Ivan decided to humiliate him. And he very well couldn't tell Ivan how strange his mind was being.

Ivan walked in, staggering a little. He had drunken a few bottles of vodka in celebration of his soldiers finding Prussia. Gilbert had not liked that his brother had given up their land, so he had run away. And, Russia wasn't one to pass up a reason to drink vodka. Not that he was terribly drunk, just a little tipsy. "Alfred, I think it's time to stretch your piercing to a 6."

Looking up at the obviously -slightly- drunk man in front of him, Alfred just put his book to the side, making sure to keep his page. "Later. Please." He added, not wanting Russia to hurt him accidentally. He knew from old Allied Powers meetings that when Ivan was even a bit drunk, he could be more careless than normal.

"Hm... I guess you're right. I don't really feel like doing that tonight anyway." Seeing the relieved look on America's face made Ivan want to say the next part even more. "I feel like having sex."

This was a predicament. If he downright rejected Russia, he might be raped painfully like in his first month here. Yet he still _really_ didn't want to have sex with him. Could there be a compromise...? "What if I," he started, hating himself more with each syllable, "just give you a hand job and you leave me alone." There. He said it. Now hopefully Russia was intoxicated enough to go for the bait.

"No, I'll settle for a blow job, but then I will take care of you." He smiled, walking closer to the bed. "I always take care of my partner, you know. It's only fair."

"Fine." He muttered as he watched Russia all but collapse on his bed. Standing up and walking over to it as well, Russia smirked at him as he undid the button and zipper of his pants, pulling them down.

When Alfred put his lips around the head, Ivan closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. He was defiantly getting better at this, even if his ass was like heaven in comparison. "I see you're over your over-long temper tantrum."

America fought the urge to bite down hard at the Russian's words, instead opting to bring the cock further into his mouth. He continued to bob his head up and down on the shaft, every once in a while letting it go completely and swirling his tongue on the tip, tasting his precum. Grabbing the base with one hand and rolling Ivan's balls in the other, Alfred started licking and sucking on the shaft, pumping slightly.

Kissing the tip lightly effectively smearing the milky substance on them, he took it into his mouth again, deep throating it. His throat was forced to relax as he brought Ivan's cock deeper and deeper. Struggling to remember to breathe through his nose, Alfred had to quickly take it out and bring in a few shaking gasps before he continued his ministrations with both his mouth and hands. As much as he didn't want this, he didn't want to have sex ten times as much.

Sitting on the bed, with America hovering over him, was just too tempting a position to be in for Ivan. Alfred's butt was in the air, with just pajama bottoms covering them. He reached up and felt that ass, slipping his hand into the waistline of the loose pants. When the other country stopped moving his mouth, Russia just said, "Keep sucking." The wonderful feeling of having his cock in America's mouth continued as Ivan searched for the hole he knew was there. When he found it, he slipped a finger in, wiggling it around inside. There was a coughing sound below, Alfred obviously too focused on his butt than Russia's dick.

As he took his mouth off of Ivan's cock, a thin line of saliva connected his swollen lips and the dark, engorged erection for a second before he started talking. "What are you doing? You said that I didn't have to have sex with you if I gave you a blow job!"

"Just because I put my finger up your ass doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you. I said I would make you cum, and you always seem to cum faster if you have something up here." Ivan put in another finger, trying to find the prostate. "Your job isn't finished yet."

Glaring at Russia, Alfred moved his head back down to continue his actions. He started placing open mouth kisses on his balls while his hand pumped slowly. Bringing his mouth back to the weeping member, he ran the broad part of his tongue over the tip and then sucked lightly on it. When Russia started to twist and scissor his fingers, America's spine stiffened slightly, causing him to stop momentarily.

"Continue. Your abilities diminish when you have something up your ass." Russia put in the third finger, stretching the hole wider. Then, with his other hand, he pulled down the front of America's pants, letting out the full hard-on. Holding it lightly, he started playing with the head, teasing evilly.

Alfred bucked once into the teasing hand before squeezing his eyes shut and concentration on his side of the deal. It was difficult to do so though when he had three -or was it four fingers now? He couldn't tell because they were so big- fingers up his ass and one hand playing lightly with his straining erection. Flushing lightly, America moved one hand to Russia's thigh, pushing the legs apart a bit as the other lightly squeezed his balls, keeping up the attention on them. His mouth was then around the cock again, feeling the strong pulse go through it as he sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing out. Slowly, he started to move up and down before moaning around it as his prostate was jabbed.

The vibrations of the moan almost brought Russia to climax. Now he continued pushing the prostate, America's mouth sucking harder each time. Knowing that he was close to finishing, Ivan sped up both of his hands, tightening the one around Alfred's cock. He stopped for a second, moving the ring around so that it rubbed the inside of his urethra. As America took him deep into his throat, Russia came, his seed making Alfred choke. At the same time, he climaxed in Ivan's skilled hand.

Dutifully swallowing, America shuddered as he started coughing from the unpleasant feeling. As he looked down between the two of them and his cum, his ears turned crimson as he started to slide his way off of Russia to leave for another room.

Ivan grabbed America's wrist. "I'll clean the bed tomorrow, as long as you sleep here with me tonight." He pulled Alfred down onto his chest and wrapped his arms around him, so that he wouldn't try to get away like he usually would.

Smelling the vodka on his breath, America mumbled. "I'll do it. Just let me go." He didn't try to leave, but it didn't mean he actually wanted to stay. The sticky cum between the two of them had made America feel even more awkward.

Laughing, Russia answered. "It is not up for debate. Go to sleep." He ruffled America's hair a little, his large hand almost covering the whole thing. Then he kissed it. "You need a hair cut. I can do it tomorrow, after we stretch your piercing."

Alfred's lips formed a tight line as he shut up, already closing his eyes and ignoring the way the gentle gesture made his heart skip lightly. The quicker he fell asleep, the faster he would be able to stop thinking about the conditions. Not only was he forced to sleep with Russia _in his own bed_, but he also had to look forward to having his dried cum on him when he woke up. Tomorrow really wasn't going to end up much better though.

.oOo.

Russia woke up, and when he moved, Alfred stayed asleep. He was still covered in his own cum, so he picked him up and brought him to the bathroom. He didn't wake up when his clothes were taken off or as he was placed in the bathtub, either. It was only when Ivan started pouring the lukewarm water that America stirred.

America was sleeping dreamlessly until he started hearing rushing water. Thinking he was drowning, he jolted awake to find himself in his bathtub with Russia standing over him. "What happened?" he asked quickly, still a bit out of it.

"You were so cute when you were sleeping, I thought I shouldn't wake you up. But you were still covered in cum, so I thought I should wash you.' He ran his wet hand over Alfred's naked chest, and added some bubbles. It started to foam, and he smiled, liking the look of his pet in a bathtub full of bubbles.

"You could've just woken me up so I could do it." He said, looking down at the bubbles with a slight frown. "Aren't I old enough to wash myself anyways? And what's with the bubbles?"

"If you were an adult, you would be able to take care of your own piercing." Russia picked up a handful of bubbles and put them on America's head. "And, as for the bubbles, they're just for fun." He smiled, before he realized he didn't have his camera with him. He turned off the water when the tub was full. "So we might as well change your ring here. This time I got a barbell."

Brushing off the bubbles, Alfred's frown deepened. "I don't want a barbell though. I didn't even want the piercing in the first place. It's annoying and I have to sit to piss; who _would_ want it?" He looked up at Russia, still frowning, his lip sticking out slightly.

"Well, with this, the piss probably won't run down it, since it's only a ball at the top and not a ring, so it will be easier. But I think it will look great, and you are getting it no matter what. Besides, if I take it out, you would have two streams of piss. That would be annoying for you, so much better to listen to me." Russia reached into the water and felt around for his prize.

"Whatever then. I'm only doing it cause it's better for me." America flinched slightly as Russia's hand grasped his cock and started fiddling with the ring to get it off. He knew it was going to hurt a bit since it did last time it got stretched, so he shut his eyes in preparation for the event.

Once the ring was off, Ivan put in the barbell, not needing to force it as much as the other one. "See? doesn't it look cute?"

"No." He said, wincing again. It wasn't so much that it hurt, as it _ached_. The hole where the piercing was felt as if he had a growing pain mixed with the strong desire to scratch away the strange itch. "If you think it's so cute, why don't you get one?" Great, he thought, he really shouldn't have said that. If Russia took him seriously and did it, then he would have to deal with that as well as his sheer size of him when he was getting raped. It hadn't happened for a while, but that didn't guaranty anything.

Ivan laughed and ran a finger along Alfred's cock. "Mine wouldn't look cute. It's because it's your cock that it looks cute." He stood up and turned around, headed for the door. "Finish cleaning yourself up. I'm gonna wash the sheets."


	27. Chapter 27

Alfred watched as Russia left him for the umpteenth time and let out a sigh of relief. Yes, he was aching a bit, but much worse things could have happened. Seeing no reason to hurry, America sunk lower into the tub, soothing himself in the warm water. He hadn't had a bath for a while so it was a nice change of pace. Also, if he concentrated enough, he could almost imagine that he was back in his house, even though he couldn't remember exactly what it looked like.

Sighing again, he decided instead to concentrate on how relaxed he was and mentally going over his scars, taking inventory almost. Everything was healed: Neck, wrists, hand, butt, arm, abdomen and everything else. The only one in the process was the new, thicker barbell in his cock. Sinking further into the water till his eyes were level with bubbles, he blew on them experimentally. Nothing better to do, he sat back up and started making bubble towers like he did when he was still a British colony alongside Canada. Having Russia take care of him so intently made him feel small and weak again, and the sad thing was, he didn't mind it as much as he should have.

When the sheets were off the bed, Russia called into the bathroom, "Alfred, wash your hair, so that I can cut it when you get out." Then he started thinking of what kinda of hair style he was going to give him. It had gotten quite long, almost as long as France's hair. He resembled his brother even more now. Of course, America would like his old style back, but would he be nice and give it to him? Or would he force his pet to have a horrible style and hate the mirror? He could even cut his hair so that it matched his own, now that would be fun. But the old hair style _did_ look nice on him...

Hearing Russia's loud voice, America stopped playing and dunked his head under the water. He grabbed the shampoo, washing his hair, rinsed and then used conditioner. Going over his body with soap to get everything off, he then rinsed off quickly and pulled the drain, stepping out and drying himself off. Alfred then grabbed his shirt off the floor, thinking about putting it on. Deciding not to, he threw it to the side and just wrapped his towel around himself tightly and walked out of the bathroom to a waiting Russia.

The scissors in Ivan's hand had never before been used to cut hair, he pondered as he readied a chair. The American sat down wearily, eyeing the sharp weapons. "What, would you rather I use _dull_ scissors? I won't cut you, so don't worry."

His mouth shut tight, America waited with narrow eyes as Russia assessed his hair. He had noticed his hair getting longer and longer, but hadn't thought anything of it until now. It was at the point where he could put it back into a ponytail if he wanted to without any hindrance. Also, it had picked up a slight wave that was similar to France and Canada, yet not as pronounced.

The chopping of scissors was the only sound in the air for the next few minutes. Of course, it didn't take too long to cut, considering Russia was no professional and it was rather a simple cut he was giving. He had decided to give Alfred his old hair cut, because it suited him quite nicely. When he was finished, he ran his fingers through it. "Well, it's done. You certainly have a nice head of hair, don't you?"

"Thanks." He muttered, shaking his head. It felt lighter and not as hot. Running his hand through his butchered hair, Alfred asked. "Um Russia. Could I go outside?"

"Do you need to ask? I see no reason why not." He leaned over America's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. "Have fun."

Nodding, America slid off the chair and went over to the closet to get clothes. Still holding the towel against himself, he slid on underwear and pants, then dropped it to put on a shirt. Picking it up and putting it in the bathroom, he was about to leave when a thought came to mind. "How cold is it outside?" Sure there was no snow, but that didn't really mean anything to Alfred. For all he knew it could have just randomly warmed up, melted the snow then when back down to freezing.

Ivan got a broom and started cleaning up the hair on the floor. "Last time I checked it was 5 Celsius."

After thinking about it for a few seconds, Alfred asked. "What's that in Fahrenheit?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. Maybe you should join the rest of the world and use Celsius, instead of wanting to be special and using Fahrenheit. In fact, maybe you should do that with a lot of things. You could change from imperial to metric measurements, for example." Russia smiled, knowing that Alfred had no clue how to use Celsius or metric.

"Whatever. What is it in Fahrenheit though?" He asked again, wanting to know. He kinda knew what 5 Celsius felt like from visiting everyone who used it, but it wasn't as definite as when someone said what it was in Fahrenheit.

"No clue. Go outside and find out for yourself." Done with the cleaning, Ivan walked out of the room, headed for his own. He wanted to contact Germany, to see how the crafting was going, and if it was almost complete. He couldn't wait to try it out.

Alfred just glared at the man as he left his room, opting to grab his jacket and glasses for the first time in a while. 5 didn't seem too warm, and didn't water freeze at 0? Putting it on, he walked out of his room and down the stairs, a bit excited to go outside when there was no snow. Opening the wide door, he first felt that it was still cold, but it didn't leave him freezing. After zipping his jacket up, he went outside and shut the door, a light breeze blowing. He went down the outside stairs and walked along the short grass. It was really strange to see greenish grass instead of a field of white snow so America continued to walk around, looking at all the strange plants that were growing. Summer in Russia had reminded him somewhat of summer in Alaska; there were a few birds flying around and further away a couple of small mammals were hunting.

As he continued to look around at the landscape, his view was blocked by the giant black helicopter that was still sitting in the middle of the now clear field. The imposing machine glinted in the sunlight, making America's stomach drop. Sure, he had been learning a bit of Russia, but was it enough to help him do that again? And did he even _want _to try? Last time it failed to work and he had been raped for the first time, a memory that still made him shiver.

Not only was he confused because of the punishment he might receive, but also because of his strange emotions. Yes, he still wanted out, but really didn't know what would happen if he did. Everyone that used to care now hated his guts and betrayed him, and Russia was the only one left who had still genuinely cared -even if it was in a twisted way-. He figured he could go find them and apologize, hoping they would accept him, and that was what he was going to do.

With his mind made up, America starting walking around again in case Russia had been watching him stare at the helicopter. It wouldn't help if he knew he was planning on repeating his last attempt at freedom. After a few minutes to feign interest in outside and calm his mind as much as it allowed, he walked toward the side of the house where the door to the kitchen was. Opening it, he realized that it was still unlocked.

Glad that Russia was still upstairs, he went inside, looking for another way out. There in the back of the house, was another door that led to the back yard. Unlocking it and making sure it would actually open, he then took a big breath to quell his nerves and let out a blood curdling scream. Hopefully, he thought as he ran out the door and shut it, that would create enough of a distraction that he'd have time to escape. Russia would hopefully have noticed that it came from inside, not outside, so he would then look for his 'hurt' pet.

Running to the helicopter and trying not to think about how he could be watching from his room, Alfred threw the helicopter door open and jumped inside for the second time. He was extremely glad that Russia hadn't decided to lock the door after the first time, instead probably relying on the gas to stop him if he tried again. Hurriedly throwing switches, he knew that if he was to move the joystick, the gas would release again. But, since he had started to learn Russian, the Cyrillic that was on the control board just as he remembered had actually made sense to him this time. Upon seeing the button labelled 'остановить газа' he pressed it confidently. Putting the headset on, he let himself breathe deeply as he put his hands on the release mechanism of the door and nudged the joystick. After a few seconds of not feeling dizzy, America allowed himself to smile; the first in a while.

Trying in vain to hope that Russia still hadn't seen or heard him and that he thought that the gas would just get him again, America waited those few seconds until the roters were at full speed. Bringing back all his knowledge of flying, he then made the helicopter become airborne.

Where did that scream come from? Ivan walked down the stairs, looking for his pet. It had been in this direction, hadn't it?

It was then he heard the chopper take off. Russia smiled, looking out a window. So his pet had finally figured out how to fly the helicopter without killing himself. It had just been a matter of time before he realized that now he could read the controls. And now he would no doubt go crawling back to his dear Arthur, to reconcile the past.

As the helicopter lifted off and started flying in the vague direction of London, America let his smile engulf his face. He hadn't felt this happy for a long time. He was finally free! Russia couldn't control him anymore and he was now able to pick up the pieces of his dying country. The only thing though that stood in his way was the fact that he still didn't know if England cared about him anymore. Sure, it had felt like he hadn't, but maybe Russia just tricked him into joining with him. Maybe everything would go back to how it was before all of this happed: before he went to Russia, before he had his will broken and before he was forced to whip Arthur.

Throughout the long journey, Alfred thought over everything he was going to do and say to the world. First he had to apologize to England for what Russia made him do and then maybe find Canada. Also, he could rally all the countries that were forced to join with Ivan and launch an attack on him instead, wiping him off the map and saving everyone. Throughout it all though, he couldn't help but think about just how caring Russia had become to him and the fact that he had taken care of him. He might have started all his troubles, but he had also been the one to fix him and make him better. Hopefully he could forget about all of it and let England back in the role Russia had started to occupy.

America's smile returned as he saw that he was flying over water. That meant that he was just a bit away from seeing the island that made up Arthur's country. Just as he started going over the green land, he used the telephone-like device in the helicopter, punching in the number he had forced himself to memorize. It was a few tense seconds as the phone rang before he heard England's annoyed voice that made his heart swell.

"Who the bloody hell is calling?!" Arthur put down his cup of tea. It pissed him off when people called at tea time.

Alfred's mind went blank for a second at the sound of his voice before shaking his head and continuing to fly. "Arthur... It's me." He said simply, not trusting his voice. He was almost in tears as he continued to fly toward London.

"Oh, and you expect me to recognize your voice after three words? Tell me who you are. For a second I thought you were... someone else." England looked to the ground, remembering America. Of course it wasn't him on the phone. That would be impossible.

America let himself laugh for the first time in seven months, his mood doing a one-eighty. "It really is me Arthur. I escaped from Russia in his helicopter and I'm flying over your country right now. Where are you? I want to see you." He continued to smile as he saw London in the distance.

The breath England had been taking caught in his throat. "Are you... I'm at my house. How soon can you be here?"

"Fifteen minutes max. See you soon." He said as London slowly came closer. "Hey, Arthur?" He asked slowly before he could hang up.

"What?"

"I've always loved you, y'know. Bye." And with that, he hung up the phone, excited to finally be seeing England in a normal circumstance. He pushed the helicopter to go faster so he could get there in less time.

Arthur put down the phone slowly. After seven months, he was really going to see him! And, with the super power back, maybe the world could start rebuilding itself again.

Then the phone rang.

Confused, England picked it up, wondering if it was America again. "'Ello?"

Ivan's voice rang out from the ear piece. "Hello Arthur. I must say, you sound much better. Now I have a favour to ask you."

* * *

остановить газа is pronounced ostahnoveet gaza and means Stop Gas. So if you are thinking Al is so amazing that he knows Russian so well... ya he probably knew how to pronounce gaza and was like "Hey that sounds like gas!"


	28. Chapter 28

Ten minutes went by tortuously slow as America landed the helicopter in a field nearby England's home. He had said fifteen minutes, but he was so antsy to see Arthur again that he pushed the helicopter to go faster. As soon as the helicopter touched the ground, he started shutting everything off. Taking the headset off and placing it on the seat, he slipped out of the cockpit and started running the short distance to Arthur.

Panting slightly, he got to his door and knocked loudly, the same smile plastered on his face. This was finally it. It was the beginning of the world's retaliation. Russia was finally going to be taken down by the combined forces of the free world.

With a heavy heart, England opened the door to see Alfred standing there, his old smile plastered on his face. "Well, you still look like an idiot. Tell me what happened."

Instead of answering, Alfred just threw himself at England, wrapping his arms around him tightly and putting his face in the crook of his neck. "God Arthur, I missed you so much." He breathed in the smell of England deeply: Earl Grey mixed with subtle cologne and a bit of alcohol. It was nothing like Russia's scent.

"Get off me you bloody wanker!" Arthur stepped back, looking at the hurt look in America's eyes. "I don't want to be touched by you! What are you doing here, anyway?"

"What are you talking about? I just phoned you!" America's eyes were wide with hurt as he looked down at England. Slowly, he took off his jacket, intent on staying and figuring out what had happened to Arthur.

"Yes, phoned me when I was busy. What could I do but tell you where I was when for all I knew you were on a mission from Russia." Arthur started walking away toward the sitting room. "But obviously you aren't, so shove off. At least Ivan kept you out of my hair." He was careful to keep his face hidden as he said it.

America's shocked face turned into a frown. "What do you mean? Don't you care about me? You sounded like you wanted to see me." He walked behind England as he went into the adjoining room and placed a hand on his shoulder to get him to stop. "I'm sorry for what I did, ok? I only did it because Russia made me."

"And you expect me to believe that there was no bloody way to make it not happen?! But it's not even that, it's the fact that you are possibly the most annoying git on the planet, and now that I know what it feels like to not have you scurrying around here I want it to go back to that." England knew Alfred wouldn't leave easily, so it hurt him to say this, but it was necessary. "Do you know the reason I joined Russia? It was because he promised that if I did, he would keep you there." Blinking furiously to get the water from his eyes, Arthur turned around and gave America the hardest glare he could muster.

"Arthur..." He started, stepping closer to him with his arm still on England's shoulder. "Why are you saying stuff like that? Do you really hate me that much? Or are you just confused?" His other hand moved up to England's face, America trying to not show just how confused he was at the moment. When he was on the phone with him, he had sounded as excited as he would ever show about Alfred coming to see him. Now he was trying to push him away. Did his confession scare him that much?

"The only thing I'm confused about is why you're still here!" Arthur hit America's hand away. "I said don't touch me. Now get out of my house and go back to Ivan. He's probably the only person that can put up with you."

Alfred shook his head. "This isn't what you want. Why are you pretending you want me to go away so badly?"

Once again he hit the hand away. This time, Arthur grabbed America by the collar of his shirt. "Do I look like I'm pretending?" He pushed Alfred to the floor, trying to keep calm. "Don't forget your jacket when you leave. I don't want any part of you here."

"I don't get it! Why are you acting like I'm some piece of disgusting dog shit on the bottom of your shoe? Do you hate me this much?" Alfred just looked up at England with glazed eyes. "I'm risking my life by being here and this is how you repay me? No wonder Russia didn't want me to see you, you really _don't_ care."

"You finally understand. Go run back to your master, where you belong!" Arthur watched as Alfred stormed off angrily. Then he sat down on a chair, putting his head in his hands. He heard the door slam shut. It was over.

Not looking back for fear of breaking down further, America ran back to the helicopter while leaving his jacket. He figured it would piss England off more, but he didn't care. He wouldn't need it to remind him of everything any more. If England didn't want it bad enough, he could always hold a public burning of it in front of the rest of the nations showing just how much he didn't care.

'The bastard.' He thought angrily as he reached the helicopter and jumped onto the pilot's chair. 'I tell him I've loved him for a long time and what does he end up doing? Telling me to go fuck myself!' He started the machine up angrily, punching down the button to save him from getting gassed. He didn't want to go back to Russia, but he had no other choice. Not only did he get throughly rejected by England, the helicopter had just enough fuel to get back safely. Plus, maybe Russia would be pissed off with him enough to lose control and finally kill Alfred.

Pushing back the urge to go and try to talk to Canada, America started his journey back to the mansion in Russia. Through the way back, his mind continued running over what England had said, making him sob uncontrollably. His eyes were so clouded with tears that he could barely make out the house in the distance. Giving up, he took his hands off the joystick, fully ready for it to crash to the ground, creating an intense inferno while taking his life. There was no reason to pretend anymore; England had truly left him.

In the secret room beneath the double staircase, Russia sat watching the little dot that showed where his helicopter was. He smiled as it started heading back. Arthur had done his job well. Threats were always a good thing, especially since if America didn't come back, the promise would be void and he would actually be able to carry out his threat.

When he activated the camera on the front of the chopper, he saw that the flight wasn't going well. So, with his control centre that would remotely take over the controls, he landed it safely in the courtyard. When he went outside to greet his pet, he saw him still in the pilots seat, bent over crying. Yes, England had most definitely done his job well.

Alfred didn't even feel the helicopter landing safely, too wrapped up in his turmoiling emotions. Everything he had tried to keep believing in was ripped up and thrown away. Lithuania was dead, England hated him and now he had ran back to Russia with his tail between his legs. How much more could he take before death seemed like the only viable option? Even he didn't know as his face was covered with tears. He started shivering at the cockpit door was opened by Russia.

He helped the crying man out of the helicopter, hugging him close to his body, letting him cry on his coat. "It's alright, Alfred. _I_ still love you." Running his hand through America's hair, he smiled to himself, knowing that it could not be seen. His pet had returned home.

Pulling Russia closer to him, America buried his face into his broad chest. He was in too much distress to think about just what he was doing. "Why! I to-told him I loved him and he acts like I'm some sort of disgusting disease! It's not fair! He's supposed to love me still!"

"Why do you think I tried to keep you away from him? It's safe here, you're far away from everyone like that." He let Alfred cry for a while longer, rubbing his back. "Now, don't cry over such an ass hole. Let's go inside."

Bringing his face away from Russia's chest, he looked up pitifully at the man he was holding on to. America nodded and started walking back to the house, still shivering and crying slightly as he opened the door slowly. "I'm sorry, y'know, about that." he said quietly, gesturing to Ivan's tear-stained shirt.

"It is no trouble at all, I assure you. But you did make me worry quite a lot when you left. At first screaming like that, I thought you were kidnapped! And without the helicopter, I had no way to follow and rescue you." He put his arm around America's shoulder and smiled. "But at least you're back nice and safe."

"Sorry." Alfred looked up at Russia's smile, his face still emotionless except for the tears making their way down it. "What's going to happen to me?" He asked with an emotionless voice. There must be some sort of punishment in store for him. After all, he did run away to England.

"If you promise never to do it again, and give me a kiss, I'll forgive you." Ivan walked to the sitting room, and sat down in a fluffy couch, patting the seat beside him for America.

America walked over to the couch and sat beside Russia. "I promise." He mumbled looking down at his feet. As he looked up to Ivan's face, he grabbed his scarf lightly and brought their mouths together for a quick peck on the lips. Letting go of it with a blush on his face, he looked back down at the floor, a few more tears escaping.

Ivan smiled. "Well, now that that is dealt with, why don't I make a large supper in celebration of you returning!"

Nodding to the ground, Alfred continued to silently cry. It wasn't that he was still crying over England -no, he was still upset, but not that bad-, but instead about how pathetic he had become. He never had been one to pay attention to the more obvious things, but this was so unexpected, even to him. America had just realized that he, Alfred F. Jones, was somewhat in love with Russia.

It shouldn't have been so mind boggling because he had been slowly realizing just how gentle he started to become. Along with all his little signs of compassion and love, it really shouldn't have surprised him that he started falling for him.

"But first, we should clean your piercing. Wouldn't want it to get infected, now would we?" No, defiantly wouldn't want it to be infected. Not in that place, anyway.

"Ok." America looked back up at Russia after wiping his tears on his shoulder. Standing up, he went to start taking off his pants.

Russia had to go upstairs to get the cleaning supplies. He came back and cleaned the piercing, glad to see that it was taking quite nicely to the new barbell. The stretching had been quite easy.

As Russia cleaned his piercing, America bit the inside of his cheek. When he let it go without doing anything else to it, it made him curious. "No new one?"

"Now now, don't get too eager. You just got the barbell this morning!" Ivan laughed and went to go make supper.

Following Ivan into the kitchen, he watched as he started getting everything ready. A few moments went by as he just watched before saying anything. "Do you want help?"

Russia turned around, surprised that he asked. "I suppose you could help. So why the sudden need to assist?'

Alfred shrugged his shoulders, looking at the floor. "Something to do." He looked back up at the various utensils and foodstuffs lining the counter. "What should I do?"

"You can... make the spaghetti. You know how to do that right?" Ivan smiled at what was implied. He knew America's cooking skills came from England, meaning they were next to nothing.

"I can do it." He muttered, grabbing one of the pots and starting to fill it full of water. Placing it on the stove, he turned it up all the way and stood there, staring at it. Soon, it started to bubble, splashing hot water over the edge. Grabbing a handful of spaghetti, he threw it in while being careful not to get scalded by the flying water. Stirring it periodically, he took it off the heat when it looked right and rinsed it off. "There, done. Now what?"

"Now you can go wait for when I'm finished. Wouldn't want you getting grease on the food or something, now would we?" Russia said, stirring something in a large pot. "Why don't you go learn some more Russian, since you've improved so much to be able to find the safety button."

"Ok." Without any further prodding, America went off to his room; not to learn Russian, but to have a nap before dinner. He had cried so much in one day after not being used to it that he had become drained. Going up the stairs and over the squeaking floorboard, he stopped in front of Russia's room. Thinking it over for a few seconds, he timidly went into the room. Opening the closet doors, he went in and shut himself in, making a sort of nest with Ivan's extra clothes. He needed time to think, and Russia would probably never think to look for him in there. Closing his eyes, America fell asleep while surrounded by the smell of Russia; effectively forgetting that of England.

Dinner finished, Russia went to find Alfred. Strangely he wasn't in his room. When he went past his own room, he stopped. The door to the closet was closed. Curious, he went to investigate. He smiled when he found his pet curled up on the floor, surrounded by his clothes. A Hallmark moment, if there ever was one. He took out the camera and took a picture before lightly shaking America awake. "Do you think you are ready to come out of the closet?"

"Mmrgg..." He mumbled, opening up his eyes slowly. Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, America saw Russia standing above him while shaking him into consciousness. "Wha'?" he asked quietly, his mind catching up to just where he was and what was happening. "Oh. I guess so." Pushing up against the ground, he sat up slowly before rising to his feet and stepping out of the closet.

They went downstairs to the table and started eating. Half way through, Russia looked up from his plate and stared at Alfred until the other looked up. "I love you."

Instantly, America's body stiffened and his face started turning pink. "Whatever." He looked back down to his plate, unable to eat since his heart was beating in his throat.

Russia smiled and continued eating. When they were finished, he said, "So, since you took a nap in my room, I guess that means you want to sleep with me tonight."

"No." Alfred manged to say, his heart still beating wildly. Why, all of a sudden, was he being so affected by Russia? Why wasn't he able to just brush it off? "Please, don't make me."

"No, I think it will be nice. I like sleeping with you. So you _will_ sleep in my bed tonight." Russia said, taking the dishes to the sink. America nodded his head in reluctant agreement. "Perfect. Well, we have a few hours before we should turn in, so what do you want to do?"

Narrowing his eyes slightly, America said, "I don't know." He took his own dishes to the sink beside Russia's and continued bringing over all the other plates and such to be washed.

"Well, you should decide, because I'm leaving the decision up to you." Ivan smiled as he washed the dishes. Now that his pet was broken, he didn't want to choose himself what to do, he wanted to be told. He was so cute when he got like this.

America stood still for a moment as he thought of something to do. "Read?" He asked hesitantly, unsure if there was a right or wrong answer.

"Why are you asking? By the way, do you want me to get you some English books? I noticed you have read almost all the ones I have."

"Yes please." Still standing, Alfred watched silently as Russia started the dishes. He really was quite tall; something he had always noticed from the kink in his neck he had developed from looking up at him all the time. It also made him a bit jealous just how broad and strong his body was.

Washing the dishes silently, Russia didn't notice America was still standing there. When he turned around and saw him standing still, he laughed. "You may go read, you know. You don't need my permission to do that."

America nodded as Russia turned his attention back to the dishes. "Ok." And with that, he walked up quietly to his room, grabbing the book from beside his chair and sat on his bed. He started reading, not really paying attention to the story. Instead, he let his mind wander freely as he mindlessly flipped the pages of the novel.

Even though he wanted to spend as much time as possible in bed with his pet, Russia had to do some work before they went to sleep. So, while Alfred was reading, he filed papers and such. This part of taking over the world was extremely boring.

When it was dark outside, he put down the paper work and went to Alfred's room to fetch him. "Time for bed, so come to my room now."

Looking up from his book, he put it to the side and slipped off his bed. "Do I really have to?" He asked somewhat timidly, staring over at Russia. After his epiphany, he really didn't want to be closer to Ivan than he had to.

"Of course you have to. You should be happy to sleep with your master." They walked, side by side, to Russia's room. Ivan took off his shirt and pants, Alfred was already wearing pyjama pants, so he just kept his shirt on. They climbed into the bed, and Russia once again made America cuddle.

Just like with last time, America's heart had jumped into his throat, making it difficult to breathe. He also started to shiver slightly from having to be right against Russia. Slowly, he felt his face heat up and his and Russia's heartbeat pounding in his ears. Squeezing his eyes shut, Alfred tried not think about just who he was being forced to wrap around.

Like this, Ivan could smell America's hair. It smelt like the shampoo that Russia used as well, but it had it's very own smell. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the fact that he would be falling asleep to that smell. "Goodnight, my love."

Alfred's spine stiffened as his heartbeat drowned out all other sound. He could feel Russia start to fall asleep, but it was a while before America had calmed down enough to slip into a restless slumber. If Russia ever figured out just how he felt, he wouldn't know what to do.


	29. Chapter 29

In a rush, Ivan got in the helicopter. Alfred was still sleeping, so he had left him a note saying that he would be back and not to worry. He took off, flying as fast as he could. When he had gotten the message, he had set off immediately.

The time spent flying was, in Russia's opinion, too long. He wanted to be there _now_.

Finally he arrived. Germany was already waiting for him. Ivan saw a small box in his hand.

"Here you go. And, I won't ask what, or who, it is for. I don't want to know." Ludwig handed over the box quickly, not wanting anything more to do with it. Russia opened it, looking at the object carefully.

Finally he looked up. "It is perfect. Thank you." If he left right now, he might be able to get back in time to use it. Ivan got into the chopper for another flight that, with normal pilots, would have taken much longer.

When he landed, he turned off the engine and went in search of his pet. He found him sitting in his room, reading.

"Alfred! I'm back, and I have a present for you!"

Putting his book to the side, America stood up and walked over to Russia, mildly curious. "What is it?"

Opening up the box, Ivan revealed a hollow metal tube, slightly tapered at one end, and there was a ball on the other, and about an inch bellow the ball, there was a small cross piece, coming out the side, ending in a smaller ball. It was about four inches long all together. "You were complaining about having to sit down to piss. Since this is hollow, all you have to do is unscrew the ball on the top! It's called a Prince Albert wand."

"A what?" He asked, looking down at the object. The name seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't quite think of what it was. Wait... Was it...? "Does that..." Alfred left his question hanging, his eyes going wide as he realized just what it was going to be used for.

"Yes, I see you realize what it is used for. It is to replace your barbell. The Prince Albert wand goes up your urethra. As I said, it is hollow, so you can stand while urinating! Isn't it wonderful!" Russia smiled like a child just given a toy for Christmas.

Seeing just how happy the idea of Alfred wearing the strange tube thing made Russia made it more difficult for him to reject it. But it didn't mean that he wouldn't. After all, he never even wanted the piercing in the first place. "It's not _wonderful_!" America yelled, feeling nervous doing so. "Why do you want me to have it? I don't want it!" Even though he was yelling, he was scared to make eye contact with Russia and stared at the ground instead.

The smile vanished from Ivan's face to be replaced with a sarcastic frown. "Are you saying you don't like you're present?"

Upon hearing Russia's tone change, America looked back up at his frown. "I mean... Well..." He didn't want to lie and say he wanted it, but he couldn't very well tell Russia he didn't. "It's nice... I guess... But," he mumbled, bringing his hands to unconsciously cover his piercing, "won't it hurt more?"

Perking up once more, Russia shook his head. "Don't worry, I made it just the right size so that it won't hurt! It might feel uncomfortable when it first goes in, but you will get used to it." He smiled. "And there are also extensions for if we ever want to... play."

"...Play?" The sound of that one word sent shivers down his spine. Whenever Russia 'played' it usually didn't end up well for the other person.

"Yes, play. Like with the sounding rods. But that will be another time, so for today let's just get this in, shall we?" Bringing out a bottle of water-based lube, Ivan started to coat the piercing with it.

Watching Russia spread lube on the object that was going to be put in his cock, Alfred stepped back slowly. He tried valiantly to ignore the smile that was playing on the taller man's lips as the back of his knees hit against his bed, making him fall on his back. Scrambling up on his bed further, he crawled to the corner, hiding his front in it. Russia would be upset with his immaturity, but he _really_ didn't want it going inside him.

"Come now, Alfred, do you really think that will stop me?" The wand ready for insertion, Ivan went closer to America. "Pants off, please."

America looked over his shoulder, fear evident on his face as he slowly turned around. As slow as he could, he sat down, lifting his hips as he pulled his pants down. Once they were at his ankles, he then covered his dick with his hands shyly. Even with his submissive behaviour, he still glared weakly up at Russia.

"Come now, it's not like I haven't seen it before." Russia smiled at Alfred's childishness. It was quite cute, actually. Slowly America took his hand away, revealing the piercing. It still looked good, but this was going to be better. "Now, you should be glad I didn't go for the Pound Puppy."

Shaking his head, Alfred mumbled. "I don't want to know." Wincing as he waited for Russia to put it in, he opened his eyes slightly to see what was happening. "Just... Get it over with. Please."

Smiling, Ivan took out the barbell. Then he took out the crosspiece of the wand and started pushing it in the small hole. "Good boy, you can take it." He encouraged, once again treating America like a dog.

His hands fisting the sheets, America squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't hurting him, but it felt extremely awkward; just like the sounding rod and the catheter did. The whole idea though of having a piece of metal inside of him all the time, and in such an abnormal place made him try to concentrate more on other things. Failing at doing so though, his toes curled as well to distract himself from the cool metal making its way inside him.

Once it was all the way in, Russia put the crosspiece through the piercing hole and fit it into the hole in the wand. It fit perfectly. "Done! What wonderful craftsmanship. And, just as I told you, it doesn't hurt, does it?"

Still wincing, it took some effort for him to open one hazy eye to see that it was in fact inside him. The unfamiliar feel and look of the new object made him feel uncomfortable. The weight of the metal made the tip of his cock feel a bit heavier, not to mention the fact that it went into him for about four inches. Slowly, America reached down and touched it lightly, the metal already warming up to body temperature. "It doesn't. Just... strange."

"Well, I would expect it would be. Now, we will have to take it out and clean it every day or two. But besides that, you can keep it in all the time!" Russia exclaimed, extremely happy to have a new piece of jewellery for his pet. "Now, should we try out how well it works when you cum?"

His eyes widening, Alfred scrambled further up his bed again, holding his cock lightly so it wouldn't move around too much. "Already?! Can't I have... One day to get used to it?"

"So that means tomorrow you will have sex with me with no complaints or objections?" Ivan smiled evilly, a dark shadow falling on his face, making his smile even more demonic.

"O-On second thought..." He mumbled to the side, unable to meet Russia's satanic grin. "Just please... Not sex."

"So you want to climax but have no release for me? How cruel and selfish you are being today. It seems almost like you wish to be punished. And after I gave you such a nice present, too." Ivan shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Hand job? Blow job?" He asked, throwing out other possibilities. "Please, anything but sex!"

"Anything but sex, you say?" Ivan put a finger to his chin, thinking. "Yes, anything but sex. I promise I will not have sex with you today. But you must promise to go through with anything but sex, without complaint or complication."

Without thinking through the implications of Russia's words, America hastily agreed. "Sure. As long as you don't have sex with me." He felt the pit in his stomach lighten considerably until he saw the impish smile make it's home on Ivan's face once again.

"Follow me." Quickly, Russia started walking, hearing Alfred's footsteps behind him. Down the double staircase, and then down to the basement. America's footsteps stopped for a second at the top of the staircase, but eventually continued down. Ivan lead the way to a door near the room Lithuania had been in. Once in the room, it's many drawers on the wall came into sight.

"What..." He left hanging, not even sure what he wanted to ask. Alfred figured that Russia would just do something else that was sexual to him and make America finish him off. Going to the basement was a complete surprise.

"Don't worry, I will not have sex with you." Ivan took a chair that was in the corner and took it to the middle of the room. "And since you promised to not complain or cause complications, you will not need arm and feet restraints, so please stand in front of this chair, facing me." He put his hand in his pocket, taking out something small.

Throughly chiding himself on jumping right into an agreement with _Russia_ without thinking about what was being said, America went and stood precisely where Ivan had directed him to stand and looked up at him with moist, dog-like eyes.

"Take off your shirt." America did so, and since his pants and underwear were still off, he stood in the room completely naked. Russia smiled, liking the sight. Then he bent down, and took off the ball on the front of the Prince Albert wand. He replaced it with another ball Germany had made under his instructions; this one complete with a ring.

He shivered as he took off the rest of his clothes, the cool basement air forming goosebumps on his skin. When Russia had taken his length in his hand to undo the ball, Alfred's spine had stiffened slightly at the cool touch. Unable to watch, he looked over Russia's shoulder at the wall until he felt him let go, his cock feeling a bit heavier. Succumbing to the urge, he looked back down and saw the ring on the end of his new piece. "What?" He asked again, staring at the new addition.

"A slave ring!" Russia smiled as he took out a piece of string that would fit into the ring. "I said I wouldn't tie up your hands or legs, but I never said anything about your other appendage!"

"What?!!?" He said once more, this time almost yelling. "I don-Rgghhhh" Remembering about the agreement just as he started to rebel, he opted instead to let out a growl. With a quieter voice, he continued. "But... Won't _this_ hurt?"

"Only if you try to move around." He slid the string through the hole, grinning. "Bend down, facing the chair. That way, you can use the chair as support and not rip the piercing!"

Alfred did as Russia commanded, his body screaming at him the entire time to 'Fight back! Yell! Anything!'. Looking over his back, he waited for what sort of twisted thing Russia was going to do to him next. At the same time though, he subconsciously realized that he couldn't wait to find out.

Securing the end of the string to the chair leg, Ivan smiled. "Now, don't move, or else it will rip." Then he went to one of the many shelves, taking out some things. "This is my toy room. My second favourite room. First favourite is obviously the torture room." He explained while putting lubricant on the vibrator in his hand. Of course, Alfred couldn't see what he was doing, and he would have no idea until it was in him.

His back getting a bit tired, America looked back at Russia only to moan loudly as something strange and _vibrating_ was put inside him. Jerking up slightly as if to stand up, he hunched back over as it pulled at his piercing, just as Russia had predicted. It entered roughly without preparation, but he was still slightly glad that it a least had lube on it. Russia might not seem like he cared too much - despite his words- but it was little things like not just fucking him raw with the dildo that made America realize it was the truth.

"Now, would you agree that I am not having sex with you?" Ivan said as he pushed the vibrator in. It made little noise, because he had it on a low setting. But, once it was all the way in, he turned it up. The sound got louder and the vibrations got faster and more violent. Russia heard Alfred make a pained moan, and he gave a laugh. "Come, now, are you trying to tell me you don't like this, when this hole is eating up the vibrator so greedily?"

Unable to form coherent words, he just moaned from the pain laced pleasure. America had to brace his arms on the chair he was tied to as his erection started growing, making him bend lower so it didn't pull uncomfortably. Sweat had started forming all over his body as he started to shake slightly from the effort of standing up in such an awkward position.

When he finished with the vibrator, Ivan took it out and cleaned it. He could tell Alfred was confused that he took out out so soon. Placing the vibrator back in the drawer, Russia picked up the next item.

"Now what?" Alfred asked weakly, still recovering from the intensity of the vibrator. His legs ended up spreading during the ordeal while at the same time he braced himself lower on the chair.

Ivan smiled, lubing up the next toy. "Anal beads." He said simply. He took the beads and pushed the first one in. "One." Alfred groaned as the second was forced in. "Two." Russia kept on counting as they went in, one by one. "How does that feel?"

"...Strange." He managed to grunt out as the beads were shoved inside him mercilessly. It didn't necessarily feel good, but it didn't feel terrible either. Without any other option -lest he complain and break the promise- his body continued accepting the beads until there were no more.

"Done! Now, to make you orgasm." Russia said as he sat down on the floor, so that his head was right at Alfred's crotch. In one hand he took the growing cock in front of him and ran his tongue along it, the other hand massaging America's balls.

America shuddered, swallowing back a moan as his painfully hard cock was finally touched. It greatly embarrassed him just how turned on he was by everything Russia did, but like most things lately, he didn't say so.

Realizing that Alfred was close to climax, Russia unscrewed the ball on the end of the wand, at the same time releasing him from the chair. When his cock was free, Ivan licked the tip, tasting the metal of the piercing. Then he took the whole thing into his mouth, bobbing up and down. He also reached his hand to America's ass hole, putting his finger in the loop at the end of the anal beads.

When the first bead was pulled out from his hole, Alfred groaned loudly. As well as having Russia's head bobbing between his still spread legs, it shot pleasure through his body. Even though he didn't have to anymore, he was still bent over the chair and shaking more frequently.

When Alfred first hit his orgasm, Russia swallowed the cum and pulled out the rest of the beads, all at once.

As he released his seed into Russia's mouth, a strong shudder went through his body. Biting his lip strongly to hold in most of his loud moan, his knees buckled from under him as the beads were all but ripped from his body, leaving his ass sore.

When Russia released him from his mouth, Alfred fell to his hands and knees as his body continued to shake, his head between his arms.

Putting his large hand on Alfred's chin, Russia lifted his head. "Good work. You are doing well." He let him go and once again walked to the drawers. As he was pulling out what would be next, he turned his head to look behind him, at America. "You can lie down. On your stomach, of course."


	30. Chapter 30

All but collapsing, America went onto his stomach, moving his cock so the wand wouldn't poke uncomfortably. It felt like if it wasn't for the cross piece, it would have slid out from his cum. He had just gotten it a little while ago, yet he was already used to it; proving his body was just as lewd as Russia had told him.

Finding what he needed, Ivan went back to his toy. He poured some lube on his ass hole, and it trickled down. Then he knelt down so he could reach America's body. Then he put the realistic dildo in front of Alfred's eyes. "Just so that you know that this is not me, and I am not violating the rules of the promise." As he started shoving in the dildo, he laughed. "I am, however, violating you."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Alfred winced as the new toy was forced in his already abused hole. He _really_ needed to start thinking things through again. Even if Russia and him had had sex, then at least it would have most likely been just that. Sure it would be even more embarrassing (though right at the moment it didn't seem as if it would be) but then it would just be done. This seemed to have no end in sight. Ivan would probably wait until he passed out from exhaustion before he stopped using various toys.

Thrusting the dildo in and out, he took the one that was almost the same that he had also taken out. This he also put in front of Alfred's face. "And this is also not me."

America opened one eye just enough to see the new dildo being placed in front of his face. He could tell that the first one was still lodged up his ass where it was being thrust in and out but Russia still wasn't taking it out. Looking over his shoulder at what Russia was doing, he could see him slicking up the new toy with lube and smiling down at him.

Nudging the new dildo underneath the other one, Russia started pushing it in, stretching the hole more than it ever had been before. Alfred let out a scream, no doubt in a lot of pain. Knowing that only made Ivan push harder.

White flashes of pain pulsed in time with his heart beat as America was stretched wide. The more that Russia pushed on the new toy, the more Alfred screamed, twisting blindly in pain. This was worse then when his hole was taken by Russia for the first time. Even though he felt like he was being torn in half, America still didn't scream at Russia to stop. Who knew what worse thing he could think up if Alfred broke their promise.

When the second dildo was all the way in, he started thrusting them both in and out, sometimes together, but sometimes alternately. "Well, how does this feel? Does it make you feel like a cheap whore?" Ivan laughed, having fun. His mind was already thinking up what he could do next.

With the dildos moving inside of him, slowly Alfred's screams of pain slipped into loud, humiliating moans. At first being stretched had been extremely painful, but joined with the thrusts of the toys made him even more turned on, so much that his cock was already was engorged with blood and dripping precum on the floor. The wand had started to rub slightly in his cock which helped push him closer to his second orgasm. "Already... Once!" he groaned, biting his lip and tasting blood.

"Well, since you gave only one limit, and that was actual sex, I can do as much as I want." Russia smiled as Alfred came for the second time. He slowly took out one dildo, then the other. "Hm, which one next?"

As the toys were taken out slowly, America winced again, feeling his ass go back to normal size. He heard Russia stand back up as he started looking for more things to 'play' with. Putting his face flat on the floor, he let himself start to cry; his body once again shaking with his held-back tears. His hands clenching, Alfred continued to cry onto the floor, unaware of just how loud his sobs were in the small, echoing room.

.oOo.

Throwing the vibrating beads on the floor, amid all the other toys and semen that had accumulated there over the last three hours, Russia looked at his pet, who had just collapsed, unconsciousness taking him quickly. Well, his fun was officially over for today, so he lightly picked Alfred up and carried him to the master bathroom. He took a wet towel and cleaned America's body from all the dirt and fluids. When he was cleaned and dried, he took him to bed. Ivan's bed, of course. Then he lied beside him, holding the unconscious man close to his body.

.oOo.

America woke up slowly, barely suppressing a pained groan from the dull ache that made its way though his body. His ass felt like he wouldn't be able to sit properly for a week and the rest of his body just felt drained. The last night was definitely bad, but he had no idea if it would have been better if he would have just let Russia fuck him directly. With the toys, he didn't run out of stamina and thus waited till he couldn't tell whether he had something in him or even when he had finally passed out.

Opening his eyes, Alfred narrowed them slightly in confusion. He wasn't in his room... Was it Russia's? That would make sense since the man had started making him sleep with him a lot. Also, he felt an arm around his body which belonged to said person. The body behind him made him shiver lightly in the embrace. Russia could be so unforgiving and relentless, yet when he was soft and caring Alfred couldn't help but almost forget about just how he got to be where he was, physically and mentally.

"Mm, don't move. Let's spend the day in bed." Russia mumbled, only half awake. The day before, he had woken up early to fly to Germany, and torturing Alfred for three hours was tiring. He wanted to stay cuddled up to his toy for as long as possible. He nuzzled his nose in the blond hair and brought him closer to his own body.

Shocked, Alfred's body stiffened for a second before relaxing into the embrace. "'Kay." He mumbled. Staying in bed -hopefully just sleeping- was better than anything else Russia could want to do.

Holding out his hand, Russia said quietly, still not fully awake, "Here, hold my hand."

A light blush dusting his face, America grabbed the hand lightly, his heart beating a fierce rhythm in his chest. From Russia's voice, he could tell he wasn't completely awake, making Alfred even more flustered. If this was how he acted when he was tired, it showed even more just how much he cared for his 'pet'.

Closing his eyes, Ivan mumbled, "Love you," before falling asleep.

.oOo.

Waking up for the second time that day, America opened his eyes to find the room bathed in darkness. Ivan was behind him, but his hand had slipped down his body and was now resting on his hip. Shuffling around a bit, Alfred's stomach gave a loud growl in protest of him not eating a thing since yesterday. With a frown, he slid from underneath Russia and out of the bed, already missing the warmth.

When Russia moved a bit after he left the bed, Alfred stood still for a moment, just looking at him. His face was oddly childlike in the dark as he continued to sleep, a small smile on his lips. His heart beating loudly, America went over and placed the covers over him, hesitating as his face neared the taller man's. Opting not to do it, he pulled back and gazed for a little longer before walking quietly out of the room.

Alfred went as quickly as he could in the dark down to the kitchen. The yellow light from the fridge spread throughout the kitchen as he grabbed a few things for him to eat. Sitting down with minimal difficulty at the table with the food, he quietly ate, thinking of many different things. All of a sudden, the room was filled with a unearthly flickering green glow. Looking out the window from his seat, Alfred saw the source of the light. The sky seemed to be on fire with green gas, flitting across it. Stuffing the rest of the food in his mouth and swallowing thickly, he went out of the kitchen in order to see them clearer.

Once in the foyer, he went to the closet and hesitantly grabbed one of the long coats. Putting it on along with his shoes, he went outside; bathed in the teal glow. Since it was still summer, it wasn't unbearably cold, but it was still more comfortable to wear a coat. Looking up at the sky the entire time, he walked past the helicopter for a bit then sat down on the ground. He was so entranced that he didn't even realize that he was a bit sore as he did so.

Minutes went by as he continued to watch the light show. It was mostly green, but every once and a while there was a splash of yellow or blue. Minutes turned into an hour as he continued to watch, his mind free from any other thoughts but of the lights. He didn't even notice as his fingers and nose started becoming chilled.

Ivan didn't like the feeling of waking up without the one you went to sleep with. His arms were most definitely empty. He rolled over, wondering where Alfred had gone. He looked out the window, making sure the helicopter was still there, just in case. And, sitting on the grass, was America.

He went outside as well. The Northern Lights were no sight he had never seen before, but they were still beautiful. Without a word, he sat beside Alfred, enjoying the sight. "Have you ever seen them before?" He asked quietly.

Alfred nodded slightly, still looking up to the sky. "In Alaska. And..." He left hanging, unable to bring his brother up in the conversation. Still watching the fluttering light, he shut Russia out almost accidentally. It wasn't that he didn't want him near, but he was just so interested that he couldn't stop watching. It was as if all the people in his country that had died for what used to make him America were dancing around, ignoring his presence. He wanted to yell up at them that he would return, but he knew that wasn't the case. It was a lost cause for him to keep believing that he could finally return one day.

Ivan put his arm around America's shoulders and let him lean against him. It was a strange feeling, one he had never felt before. A moment of complete contentment with another human being, and not wanting to hurt them. Actually wanting to comfort them. Perhaps it was the sight of the Aurora Borealis that made him feel that way. It was a simple explanation that he could live with. After all, the natural phenomenon had strange affects on most people, so it made sense it would affect him as well.

With Russia's arm around him, Alfred was shocked back to awareness. Slowly though, he let himself relax into the embrace, looking back to the sky again. Out of the corner of his eye though, he watched Ivan's equally calm face, bathed in the green glow of the northern lights. It was a bit uncomfortable to be so close to him after what happened just yesterday, but somehow it just felt right. Both of them seemed to be soothed by the strange lights; America more enthralled then soothed. "What about you?" Seeing Russia's confused face as he turned to face him, Alfred continued. "Have you seen them?" It was a redundant question, but he felt like he had to say something.

"Hm, Да. The first time, I was quite young, alone in a field of snow. They helped me find peace." He gave a small laugh, remembering all the way back then. It was so long ago, it was amazing he still remembered. "They are beautiful, aren't they?"

He just nodded again without making a comment. Looking back up to the colors, America continued to watch the bright sky. A few more minutes passed as they both sat in comfortable silence, leaning against each other. "Hey, Russia." He started, gazing over at said person's face.

Seeing how close Alfred was made Russia want to kiss him. He could see the brilliant blue eyes, looking at him, with the occasional flash of the coloured lights reflecting off his glasses. "Да?"

"Um..." Alfred started again, his chest constricting slightly, "Your country is beautiful, y'know. Especially in summer. Well, only in summer." Looking away from the face near his, America instead looked up at the sky once more, trying to push away the blush that was forming on his cheeks and ears.

Russia gave a small laugh. "Thanks, love you too." He said sarcastically. When Alfred stayed silent, he tilted his head forward so he was inches from America. Then he closed the gap and softly kissed him on the lips.

His face burning red at the contact, Alfred stayed still for a moment before slowly moving his lips over Russia's, molding them together. After just over a minute, Ivan brushed his tongue lightly over his lips, making him pull away. "Whatever." he mumbled, blushing almost as brightly as the night sky.

Russia laughed a little and took his arm away. "Do I really disgust you that much?"

"Well, no," he said, shivering a little from the absence of the added warmth, "It's just...Nothing, just nothing." America brought his legs up to his chest, curling his arms around them in turn. The lights had started to die out, leaving weaker flickers of green and blue.

"Really?" Ivan said sarcastically as he stood up. Without saying a word he started walking up to the house. The lights were over and there was no reason to still be out here. He had things to do; things that did not concern the bright-eyed blond.

Not bothering to watch as Russia went to the house, America stayed curled up, watching as the lights slowly started to flicker out. When the sky was finally still and black, he started looking up at the stars instead. The only other place he had seen so many was when he had occasionally went camping with his betraying brother.

As much as he wanted to forget about it, he couldn't stop thinking about just how disgusting he was for thinking _that _about Russia. It had only been seven -almost eight- months since he had been all but fooled into going to his prison of a house. Not to mention all the things he had done to Alfred in that time; his wand had started to get a bit cold as he continued to stay outside. It also didn't help with trying to reject the idea when he had to go and kiss the bastard back.

Still thinking deeply about Russia, Alfred didn't notice as the sun slowly started to rise, creating a beautiful, hazy yellow aura around everything. Finally becoming sleepy again after his full day of rest, he lay on the ground, still curled up in his too-long coat. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift off into unconsciousness, surrounded by the Arctic summer chill.

* * *

Alright, so if you can believe it we are coming up to the 200 mark for reviews! So, just as 100, the 200th reviewer will get a story! Just tell us the couples and anything other than that, as well as who tops. And it will be a PWP pretty much no matter what, unless you ask specifically for it not to be. http ://w ww.f anficti on. n et/s /5467 714/ 1/Just_L ike _Rain Take out the spaces and that is the story we wrote for the 100th reviewer.


	31. Chapter 31

The pet hadn't come back in. Not that it mattered, but he wanted to know where he was so that the idiot wouldn't die from touching something and electrocuting himself. Ivan checked America's room, but it was empty. Next he looked out the window, and in the faint light could see him on the grass, shivering in his sleep.

Down the stairs and out the door, Ivan walked with an unimpressed look on his face. He bent over and touched his cheek, feeling that it was freezing cold. Ivan gave him a little slap. "Wake up."

Shocked by the rude awakening, America's eyes flew open. Touching his stinging cheek -the coldness helping dull the pain somewhat-, he sat up and looked at the strangely emotionless man above him. "Wha'?" he asked groggily, gazing around at his surroundings. "Did I fall asleep out here?" The cold glare he got in return made his heart beat faster in fear.

"Get up, unless you want to fall asleep out here and never wake up again." Russia walked away, not really caring whether or not the other followed. He went down to his basement and closed the door behind him. Walking into his torture room, he started looking at all his toys. He had many toys, it wouldn't matter much to him if one of them was gone. He could always acquire another dunk tank, Heretic's fork, or Judas's Cradle. Every toy, even broken ones, were replaceable. And he never had any emotional attachment to any of them, so it would just be like getting another piece of furniture.

Once again shocked with Russia's lack of his seemingly ever present joy, Alfred jumped to his feet. Running in after him, his joints stiff from the cold, he felt just how freezing he was. In the course of the night, his wand had grown more and more cold, making the tip and cross piece of it freeze-burn his sensitive skin. Unable to see where Russia had gone, he figured he would be in his room.

Running up the stairs to said person's room, he opened the door shyly and peeked in. Unable to see the Russian, he continued looking through the rooms of the house before finding himself standing at the top of the staircase to the basement. Swallowing loudly, he walked down them, his eyes on the ground. If he wasn't here, then America had no idea where else he would be.

Opening door after door, Alfred finally opened the one containing all of Russia's prized torture devices, coldly remembering the last time he was in it. When he actually saw him in there, he just stood there, unable to think of just what to say.

When he heard America open the door, Ivan didn't turn around, just continued turning the crank on the head crusher, making the space smaller and smaller. "What do you want? Food?"

"Uh... Actually.... I came to apologize..." He said, almost stuttering. Judging by the way Russia angrily cranked the strange device more and more, something Alfred did had made him upset. He didn't know what he did, but everything was his fault, wasn't it?

"For what?" Ivan went over to the Heretic's fork, making sure it was still sharp. The drop of blood on his finger proved that it was indeed sharp enough. "You didn't do anything." Then he picked up the fork, imagining it on America's throat, him trying to keep his head up enough so that the ends didn't sink into the flesh of his chest and chin.

"I didn't?" America asked, cocking his head to the side quizzically. "I just thought... Well... You seem... _tense_..." The way that he continued looking over the expanse of his 'treasures' made Alfred more and more uncomfortable with being there. He really didn't want to see how they all worked first-hand.

"No you didn't." An idea occurred to Ivan, perking up slightly. "But you know, I am feeling a little down. You could... help me feel better, if you want, of course."

Thinking about what might happen -considering which room they were in- America was hesitant. "Like what?" Contrary to what Russia said, he could see a faint glimmer in his violet eyes.

"Don't worry, nothing in here." Ivan waved his hand around in the air, as if dismissing the very thought. "Since we've already had sex in here."

"Okay..." he said questionably. Still scared to go in, he continued talking from the doorway. "Then what can I do?"

Mentally slapping his forehead at America's idiocy, Ivan continued. "Have sex of course." He smiled, showing his snow-white teeth. "We could have sex anywhere in the house, you pick."

"A-anywhere?" he stuttered. That wasn't so much what he was focusing on, as the sex part. Alfred was still sickened by his strange, caring feelings for Russia. Having sex with him now would be almost like admitting to the strange love.

Once again, the strange gleam in his eyes reminded America of when he had first arrived. "On second thought, maybe you should stay here. You'll be happy that way." He took a hesitant step backward, ready to turn and run at a moments notice.

"Oh? You want to have sex _here_?" Ivan smiled and grabbed a hold of Alfred's wrist, hard. It would no doubt be bruised. "We're having sex, and I don't care if I have to tie you down again. Maybe we could make use of the stockade as before."

America's eyes went wide with panic. "No! Please! Not here! Just let me go!" He said in a frenzy, trying to pull his arm away from the vice-like grip. "I..." He started, looking down. "I thought you cared about me."

"Haha! Care about _you_? Why the fuck would I care about you? You're just a toy, easily thrown away. I can't believe you actually thought I was telling the truth when I said those obvious lies." He pushed America down to the floor, smiling when he heard his head hit the floor. "Why would anyone care about you? I just like the feeling of having my dick so far up your ass that it almost feels like it's going to come out the other side."

Dazed from the blow to his head, Alfred looked up at Russia with half-lidded eyes. Rubbing the back of his head, he brought it to his face and saw blood. "Why? Why lie? What did you have to gain? You could have just killed me..." Leaving his sentence hanging, America winced as his head started pounding. "What happened to you anyways? You're acting totally different than normal."

"Actually, right now I have no mask. It is fun playing with you, and you having no idea what I am thinking, so I like to keep it that way. But maybe playing with you is getting boring." Ivan bent down and started undoing Alfred's pants. "But at least you are still good for one thing."

Scrabbling back to his feet while suppressing a pained groan, America pushed the hand away. "Fine. But if you're going to do that, I want it to be on a bed. On the second or third floor." He added after seeing Russia's feral grin. "I just," He said sombrely, "want to know what you really feel."

"Fine, then pick a room." Ivan got up and walked to the door, not giving a helping hand to America. "And if you want to know how I feel, go out in the snow in the winter. _That_ is how I feel."

Walking out of the room as well, he felt the back of his head again, frowning deeply at the moist feeling. After he heard Russia ascend the stairs, he was right behind, going all the way up them and the other main stairs to a random guest room with a bed. Taking off his shirt, America put it to the back of his head to help stop the bleeding. It would be coming off anyways and at least this way he might be somewhat healed before getting into even more pain.

Quietly, he sat on the bed and waited for Russia to come and find him. He seemed to be pissed off about something; if it wasn't him, maybe some other country was rebelling against him. In any case, whatever he decided to do to Alfred wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone but Ivan.

Walking into the room, Russia saw his prey on the bed, already shirtless. "Well, at least you are getting trained, even though it's taken forever." He left his clothes on and knelt on the bed, taking America's pants off. Out of one of his pockets, he pulled a bottle of lube, and handed it to Alfred. "Prepare yourself. I want a show."

Grabbing the bottle from Russia's hands ferociously, Alfred faced him as he unscrewed the top and placed a dollop on his fingers. Rubbing it around on them to warm it up, he grumbled something unintelligible and bent over, placing his fingers at his entrance. "You're sick." And with that, he slid the first finger in past the ring of muscle.

Russia smiled, watching the erotic image of Alfred finger-fucking himself. Then, with the small camera, took an obvious picture. "Another one for my collection, and you're not getting it back."

Alfred growled under his breath as he continued to twist and bend his finger in his hole. Wincing as he slowly added the second one, he glared up at Russia who continued to watch with a smirk on his face. His breath started becoming slightly laboured as he started scissoring the two that were already in him, making room for a third to join them. America wanted to take enough time so that he was properly stretched but be fast enough so that Russia didn't become bored. Giving Russia a 'show' as well as making it feel better for him, Alfred felt around inside of himself for the little bundle of nerves he knew was there. Once he brushed it, he let out a shaky breath.

"Turn around and give me a better view." Russia said, watching the demonstration with a smirk. When Alfred did so and Ivan could see the coated fingers going in and out of that beautiful hole, as well as the fully-healed brand, he started getting a reaction himself. So he took out his semi-erect cock and started lazily running his hand over the length, getting it hard enough to penetrate the nice ass in front of him.

Thrusting his fingers in and out of his ass slowly, America looked over his shoulder at Russia gliding his hand over his cock. At this point he had pinpointed his prostate and each time hit it dead on, causing himself to get hard and start to push harder on his fingers.

Watching America's back arch with almost every thrust made Russia want more. "Alright, my turn.' He moved forward and glided Alfred's fingers out and his own cock in. The lube made it quite easy to move, so unlike the first time. "Mm, you're ass always feels so good."

When Russia had impaled him on his cock, Alfred did little more than let out a small breath and push slightly onto it. Like every other time he had this happen to him, he figured the faster Ivan finished, the faster he would let him go. Since he was in such a strange mood as well, maybe he would go off for a week or two somewhere in the world.

The thing that continued to bother him though was the fact that he didn't know which side of Russia was the truth and which was the lie. Ivan certainly seemed angry now, but for the last month and a bit he had been all but pampering him. Yes, he still made him do embarrassing things, but he didn't mind as much when he was happy.

With Ivan thrusting into him now, America reached at his hard cock and slowly undid the ball at the end of it. He was glad that he could stand to pee, but having the wand in all the time was still a bit awkward. It made even just walking feel somewhat erotic.

Ivan pounded into the tight ass, enjoying the feeling. After all this was just sex, just some physical pleasures to break up the mundane everyday life. It had nothing to do with _feelings_ or _emotions_. The only thing Russia did that had any type of emotion was the joy he felt when torturing someone, which was the only reason he had his toy there in the first place. He didn't like him anymore than any of the other toys. If he did, what would that mean? It was impossible to like someone for a reason other than wanting to hurt them, after all.

As the thrusts became faster and deeper, he couldn't help but moan quietly as his sweet spot was hit time after time. With Russia's anger mixed with his strange vigour, Alfred was somewhat scared that he would be spent before Russia could finish. Because of it, he tightened his hole's grip on Ivan's shaft and helped thrust himself onto it. It was embarrassing having sex with him after he realized that he love him, but the way he was acting right now made him almost forget about just why he seemingly liked him.

"I've trained you into a good little whore, haven't I?" Russia smiled, his hands on the bed to keep him up. This time he didn't touch Alfred at all to help him get any pleasure. Why would he? This was only about getting his own pleasure, so America could go fuck himself. If he wanted his dick touched, he would have to do it himself, giving Ivan a little show in return for keeping him alive. That was his job, and without doing his job, Russia had no use for him.

Alfred didn't say anything in response, instead opting to continue thrusting onto Russia's cock. He waited for a bit for Ivan to touch him more, even more confused when it never happened. What had happened for his mood to suddenly change? He was listening to him, so why was he being so rough with him? Trying to focus on the pleasure instead, he let out a strangled cry as he came, releasing onto the bed. Without mercy, Russia still kept on pounding into him.

Ivan gave a cold laugh. "Cumming just from having something up your ass?" A few more rough, deep thrusts had Russia riding the waves of his own orgasm. He pulled out, and tucked himself back in. Then he turned and walked out the door without another word.

* * *

Alright, sorry for the angry Ivan! I know it was just getting good, and I really don't know how it happened. But I think you deserve a little explanation of why he suddenly got angry. It was mostly because he was angry at himself for the last chapter, actually feeling like he cared for America. So, to prove to himself that he didn't actually care about him, this chapter happened. So once again, sorry! Please don't stop reading!


	32. Chapter 32

Going on his knees, cum dripped slowly out of his hole as he turned around and stood up, America followed after Ivan. "What happened? Why are you all of a sudden so angry with me, did I do something to piss you off?" Alfred regretted saying anything as Russia turned around, the same hard look in his violet eyes.

"It's not you!" Ivan said, taking a step forward to America. "I'm mad at... myself. It wasn't supposed to be this way!" No, it was supposed to be different. It wasn't meant to have anything to do with back _then_. Alfred wasn't that person, and he was just supposed to be a pet, something to help pass the time. He couldn't let himself think like he had back when there had been another person living in the house. He hadn't meant to develop feelings like he had back then. That _he_ had never returned.

"What way...?" He asked quietly, completely confused about what Russia was talking about. How could he be angry with himself? Did he all of a sudden grow a twisted conscience and want to hurt Alfred more because of it? "I don't understand..." He took a step away by habit, hoping Ivan wouldn't lash out. Something was definitely wrong with Russia's mind at the moment, and the American had no idea what.

What was he doing? Almost telling his toy about his past. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling the handle of a Swiss Army knife. "You know what, you have a nice face. But I think I can make it look better." His feral smile as he pulled out the knife and opened it was terrifying.

Alfred's eyes went wide as he saw the small knife in Ivan's hand. "What are you talking about...?" He asked hesitantly, walking back a few more steps. If Russia was planning on doing what he thought he was, then he wasn't sure what would be better to do. If he ran, he could get even more hurt, but having his face cut up wasn't that appealing either. "I don't think I have anything to do with what happened to you, so why do you have to punish me?"

"I don't care what you think!" Russia said, taking a step toward Alfred, thinking of where he was going to cut. When the other opened his mouth to say something more, Ivan lashed out, not wanting to hear what he was going to say. The small blade opened a cut from his cheek bone, down to almost his mouth. It started bleeding almost immediately, before America even had time to cry out. The blood started running down his face, oozing from the wound.

Automatically, America reached up to touch his face. Looking at the blood on it, he then turned his hard gaze to Russia. "Don't you get it?" he asked quietly, blood starting to drip down his face and onto the floor. "_I_ care what you think because..." Pausing for a second, Alfred swallowed loudly at what he was going to say. "Because _I love you!_"

Ivan slapped him before realizing just what had been said. He had expected a snide remark or insult, but not that. He looked to his hand that he had just slapped him with, seeing blood on it from the cut. Alfred's head had turned from the force of the slap and now he was looking at the floor, his hand once again on his face. He loved him? Was it possible?

The blood was still flowing freely from America's cheek. Russia stepped forward, seeing Alfred flinch. Ivan sighed. "Come to the medical room so I can fix that." His voice held none of the anger or intenseness it had a moment ago. He looked at his hand once again, almost feeling regret for what he did.

Looking at the floor the entire time, Alfred followed Russia silently to the medical room. The tone of his voice had changed back to what it was like before, but knowing him that could just be a ploy. After all, he just admitted his twisted love for the Russian; America wouldn't be surprised if he was just going to kill him instead. How could he live with a pet that had fallen in love with his master?

They got to the room and Ivan pointed to a chair that America could sit in. He did so without a word, and Russia started looking for supplies. Luckily the cut wasn't deep enough to need stitches, just some gauze. It was still bleeding, so he got some cotton to soak up the blood until it stopped bleeding. It had to stay there for a while, so Russia got another chair for himself. "So you know that you don't have to lie to me, right?"

He just mumbled an agreement and continued to look at the ground. It wasn't so much that he didn't have to lie, as much as that if he did, he would be in big trouble. Alfred was feeling even more awkward around Russia from not only his weird mood swing, but mostly from what he admitted to.

"So if you agree that you shouldn't lie, then are you going to retract your earlier statement?" Ivan said, looking America in the eye. It was impossible that what he had said was true. Simply impossible. All he had been doing up till now was imprison, hurt and torture the blond, be it mentally or physically. It was all he knew how to do. Sure, there were times where it seemed that Alfred had cared what Russia was up to, but those were surely just for self-protection, weren't they?

America's heart dropped into his stomach, fluttering wildly as he remembered once more just what he said. He had meant it; didn't he? Sure Russia had done some horrible things to him, but he had still kept him safe and alive while the rest of the world had to bend to Ivan's will or die. It was boring and sometime dangerous being here, but it was much better than if he had been left to his own devices. "No," he murmured, "I'm not going to."

"So you are going to keep lying to me? That is not a nice thing to do, Alfred." The cotton completely full of blood, he got another. The flow had slowed down, so soon he would be able to clean it. He always kept his blade clean, but it was always a good idea to clean wounds. Since this was on the face, it would not be good for it to get infected. It would certainly turn into a nice scar though.

"I'm not lying though." he said a bit louder. "I really do mean it." Even though he did, it was still awkward for him to say it so casually to Russia. The last time he had said that to another person he was downright rejected. It wasn't too long ago, making it even more intimidating to say that he really did love his former tormentor.

He got the cleaner out, now that the cut had finally stopped bleeding. "This will sting a little." Ivan said as he dabbed it on a piece of cotton and put it on the wound. Alfred hissed as he sucked in his breath. Dabbing the cut, Russia continued the conversation. "How could you love me? I mean, I know you're slightly masochistic, but this is insane. I'm not crazy enough to think people actually like me."

At Russia's comment, Alfred wanted to yell in his face 'Of course I love you, you idiot! You take care of me and make sure that I don't die like everyone is! How could I not love you?!'. Instead, he just looked up at Russia's face and mumbled. "But Ivan..." He shivered from the intimacy of his human name. "I _do_ love you." Once again his heart started beating like mad, making his face turn light pink.

Russia didn't believe it for a second. No one could love him, not how he was. It was absolutely impossible.

But... if what America was saying was true... then it wouldn't turn out like it had back then. If it wasn't one-sided, then he wouldn't have to kill the other person. To be loved by another human being; what would it feel like? He put the gauze on the cut and taped it so it would stay there. Then, as almost a test of Alfred's words, he leaned forward and started kissing him.

America was shocked at Russia's actions, but he still almost immediately responded. Kissing back intently, he allowed Ivan's tongue to probe his mouth, running along the inside of it. He pushed back slightly with his own, while still letting him control the kiss. Because of the kiss, Alfred's heart soared, glad that Russia had accepted his messed up love. Maybe now he would realize just how much America would do for him.

After a while, Ivan pulled away. So, did this mean that it was actually true? He didn't know. This was uncharted territory. "I'll change the gauze later today." He said, then left the room. If America _was_ in love with him, he didn't know how to act around him. If he just continued doing what he always had, surely Alfred would see what was wrong with the situation and start hating him again. Did he want that? What were his own feelings toward the American? He surely didn't see him as just another toy to be thrown away on a whim. But did that mean that he also loved him?

Sitting on the chair for a few more moments, Alfred continued to think over just what happened. It seemed as if Russia had accepted his adoration, but he had walked away, leaving him alone. Maybe Russia was just confused. He knew even he was; after all, he had fallen in love with his once enemy. But, it didn't matter to him anymore. The past was the past and the future seemed brighter than ever to the once-more optimistic blond.

Fingering the gauze on his cheek, America stood up and walked out of the room, hoping to see Russia. When he didn't, he just walked to his room. Ivan's door was closed, making him slightly confused, but he just brushed it off that he was working and wanted privacy. Going to his room, he opened the heavy metal door and closed it behind him. He walked over to his bed and lay down; glad he had finally gotten the heavy emotional burden off his chest. Now everything would be better. With that, he drifted off to his most peaceful sleep in a while.

.oOo.

It had been a week since he had admitted his feelings, and yet things hadn't managed to get better. Instead of him and Russia becoming closer, Ivan had become more and more reclusive. It got to the point where the only time he would ever see him was in passing; even for meals they didn't sit together. Russia would make the food, but just leave America's on the table and take his own up to his room, barricading himself in. He had even stopped telling him when it was ready; making it so that Alfred had to check to see if it was.

Alfred had assumed that it was just a lot of work on his behalf, but it still made him somewhat sad that he didn't get to see him. It gave him time to read and learn more Russian, but it was still making him lonely.

Ivan leaned back in his chair. He didn't want to do more work, but what else could he do? He had already made supper, and if he left his room Alfred might try talking to him again. Why couldn't he just understand that if they continued talking, he would just start hating Russia again? If they spoke, the conversation would lead somewhere, and it might have something to do with Ivan, and then America would come to his senses and realize that it wasn't love, but contempt he had for the Russki.

He looked out the window. It was already dark, and he saw that it had started snowing lightly outside. It would melt once it hit the ground, and in the morning it would all be gone.

He decided to go to sleep. He took off his clothes, preferring to sleep naked. He missed having America sleep with him, but that would mean he would have to force him, and Alfred would start hating him again. Ivan sighed, closing his eyes.

Once again, America ate dinner sombrely by himself. It wasn't as if the food was bad at all, it was just sad to be eating alone. When he had finished, he cleaned his dishes and walked back upstairs, going by Russia's still closed door.

He went into his own room and lay down on his bed silently. If Russia wasn't going to come out of his room and talk to him, then he would have to go to Ivan if they were to be together. Standing up once again, he changed into his pyjamas and went to Ivan's door.

Knocking on it quietly, he waited for a response. When he didn't get one, he slowly opened the door, peeking into the room. "Ivan?" he whispered, trying to get his attention. When he once again was met with silence, he slinked into the room, tiptoeing over to the side of Russia's large bed. Swallowing his small fear, he crawled up onto the bed and sneaked under the covers to his side. If he didn't get the hint that America wanted more attention now, he didn't know what else to do.

The shaking of the bed woke Ivan up. He turned over to see Alfred already under the covers. "What are you doing here? Did you get lost and come to my bed by accident?"

"No." He said simply, grabbing onto Russia's arm semi-shyly. America then slid closer to his body, unaware that he was completely naked and put his face near Ivan's shoulder. Being this close made his heart beat fast, but it was slightly enjoyable. After all, he wanted to show Ivan that he wished to be closer to him, and what better way than sleeping beside him without being forced to?

Confused, Ivan let his arm be cuddled. What was America doing? Was he a complete idiot? "You don't have to, you know. I'm not forcing you."

"I know." Snuggling against the arm, he continued, "It's just..." Alfred stopped, thinking for the right words for what he wanted to say, "I was wondering why you were avoiding me. I've-I've missed you." Alfred stuttered slightly, embarrassed with himself.

Perhaps avoiding him was the wrong thing to do. Ivan had no clue how it had happened, but America seemed to genuinely care about him. So maybe he could still be around Alfred, and every thing might _not_ go to hell. He silently closed his eyes, calmly going to sleep beside his pet, if he could even be called that anymore.

When he felt Russia drift off to sleep beside him, America hoped that meant that he was going to stop running away from him. He really did mean what he said about missing him; he was also insanely lonely from the lack of any human contact. Not bothering to worry anymore, he also fell asleep, nestled against Russia's side.

* * *

Face-palm. Russia, what is wrong with you?! Get your emotions straight, will you?! Once again, sorry for Russia's mood. I don't know how it happened, but he has a whole new set of problems this chapter. I guess no one has ever loved him, and he likes being loved, so he wants it to stay that way. Or maybe the fact that someone loves him creeps him out so he wants to avoid him as much as possible. Whichever it is, I am sorry. Also, we are sorry if Happy!Alfred is pissing you off as much as he is us. No helping it, I'm afraid! Sure, we write the characters, but we hardly have no clue where the story will go until we write it.

So the winner of the story is Sexykill69. So we will let you all know when we are finished that story.


	33. Chapter 33

"No, you have to roll your R's. Like this." Russia rolled his R, showing Alfred how to do it. He was once again helping America learn Russian. They were sitting on his bed, Alfred in between Ivan's legs and leaning against his broad chest.

America tried once more unsuccessfully to roll his R's just like Russia. "It's hard 'cause in English you don't..." He explained, pouting slightly. It wasn't his fault if he wasn't used to the strange sounds in Russian. Alfred wanted to get better at it to make Ivan happy, but it was proving to be more difficult than he had first thought.

"Well, you'll just have to try harder." He had decided that it was no use trying to act differently, so he was just going to act like himself, without torturing America. He was sure he could have enough self-restraint to do that much at least, right?

"Ok, I will." He promised, looking up at Russia's face behind him. Sitting in-between his legs made Alfred a bit uncomfortable, but it was ok since he wasn't trying to do anything to him. Other than last night, they hadn't touched since he got the now scabbed cut on his face.

Russia pointed to another word on the page, silently asking America to try and say it. "Doh sveedanya." He said slowly, trying out each letter's sound on his tongue.

"No, because the O is not stressed, so it sounds like A, like in attorney. It sounds more like Dah sveedanya." Ivan corrected. He wanted to touch America more than this, but he had promised himself he wouldn't. He wouldn't force him to have sex, or to do anything he didn't want to. Even this position was Alfred's idea. He had said it was easier for learning, so that Russia could see what he was writing and looking at.

Nodding, Alfred copied him, trying out the sounds while also trying to make them sound just like how Russia said them. "Dah sveedanya... Ok." He continued looking at the words on the page while inwardly pronouncing them. Alfred was hoping that the awkwardness he was feeling was from him alone, and not from Russia. Being like this on Ivan's bed made him wonder if Ivan let him sit like this only because he was hoping for something more. Well, there was only one way to find out, and if it was the truth, he wouldn't really mind because he honestly wanted it now.

"Hey... Ivan?" he started, looking back over his shoulder. It was embarrassing asking for it after being so against it for such a long time, but he wanted to show Russia just how much he cared about him.

"Remember, that is the sound that has no English equivalent. It is almost like the S in pleasure." He said, pointing to the letter that looked slightly like a spider.

Alfred shook his head. "No, not that... I was wondering if, y'know, you wanted to..." He left his sentence hanging, hoping Russia would understand. When he only received a slightly confused look, he continued. "Y'know... Well if you wanna, like, y'know...Do it?" He muttered quickly, instantaneously blushing.

Of course Ivan knew what America meant. But, since he hadn't tortured him in a while, he couldn't resist playing with him a little. "Do what? I suppose you mean something other than learning Russian, since we are already doing that."

"I mean... Well.. You know what I mean." He said quietly, hanging his head so that Ivan wouldn't see the blush that was engulfing his face. "I wanna... Do _it_ with you..."

"You do? Well, this is a nice turn of events." Ivan said, smiling. If Alfred _wanted_ to have sex, then that was fine, wasn't it? He wrapped his arms around America's chest and nuzzled his face in his hair affectionately, so that his mouth was right by his ear. "So, this is consensual? Not rape?"

Nodding his head, he let Russia hold him close. This is what he wanted, so why was he still feeling apprehensive about it? Yes, Ivan had forcibly raped him in the past; which was totally different. He had fought against Russia back then, and now he wanted to be as close as possible to him. Swallowing thickly, America swore that Ivan could hear his heart beat loud and clear.

Slipping one hand into America's pajama pants, Ivan ran a finger along the length of his cock. He also kissed his neck, but didn't bite down. "Turn around; I want to be able to see you."

Complying, Alfred turned around in Russia's lap so that he was straddling him. His face was still beet red as he nuzzled the clothed chest that was now in front of him. Looking up slowly, he could see Ivan's bright smile. Already America had started to grow hard, and all Russia had done was touch him lightly.

"Why not take off your shirt? Since this _was_ your idea." Russia said, smiling. Alfred did so, revealing his chest that, over the months, had shrunk so that it was now almost skin and bones.

When his shirt was off, America grabbed a hold of Russia's and started pulling it up, silently asking for him to raise his arms. As soon as he did, the shirt was pulled over them and thrown to the floor as Alfred grabbed ahold of his shoulders lightly. Slowly, he started to gyrate his hips, grinding his hard cock against Ivan's lap. His eyes were closed as he hung his head down in order to not look him in the eye. Alfred did ask for it, so it was even more embarrassing to him than normal.

Surprised at this new Alfred, Russia let him do it his own way. It was nice not having to make all the first moves, or threaten at all.

Since Russia wasn't making any move to stop him, Alfred continued rocking his hard crotch against Ivan's hardening one. Opening his eyes a bit, he started undoing Ivan's pants; breaking away for a moment to pull his own pyjama pants off. He shuddered as his now aching cock was exposed to the cool air.

Looking up to Ivan with a questioning glance, he silently asked if it was ok to take his pants off. Receiving a smile in return, he slowly did so, careful not to hurt him. Russia's dick wasn't as hard as his own so he sat back down on it and continued to grind them together, making him moan in the process.

"Mm, you are very erotic when you are like this." Ivan said, as his shaft was coaxed into getting bigger. He put his hands on Alfred's butt. "Mind if I get you ready?" America bit his lip slightly and shook his head, giving his approval. So, Russia pulled out some lube from his pocket and put some on his fingers. Just because he had told himself he wasn't going to rape America anymore didn't mean he couldn't be prepared. So he put one slick finger into Alfred's opening, sliding it in and out.

America moaned again as the finger was thrust in and out of him. He didn't feel as bad voicing himself now that he was supposed to enjoy what was happening. Still gyrating his erection on Russia's now hardened cock, he now started to push down on Ivan's finger, making it go in deeper. He knew that if his prostate was hit then he would enjoy it even more.

Adding the other two fingers, Ivan found America's prostate. He arched back and moaned, and Russia felt his fingers squeezed. "Are you ready for me?"

Nodding his head furiously, Alfred quickened the pace on both the fingers and their dicks. Before Russia took his digits from his stretched hole, he quickly took the ball off the end of his wand. When Ivan had stopped talking to him, he made sure to take it out and clean it every day so it wouldn't become infected.

With one hand on his cock, and the other on Alfred's hip, Ivan guided his manhood into the hole that, even after all the times it had been stretched, was still tight. "Mm, your ass is the best I've even had."

As Russia pressed slowly into his ass, Alfred let out the loudest moan that he had this night. Sure he had already had Ivan's cock up it, but because this time he allowed himself to fully enjoy it, it had felt much better than the others. When Ivan had started to slowly thrust in and out, America met each with his own reverse thrusts. At the same time, he had placed his hands on Russia's chest and was rutting against the taller man's stomach.

"You're very eager today." Russia said, thrusting upward, even with the awkward position. "If you really do love me, you should kiss me."

Without hesitation America put his arms around Ivan's neck and sloppily kissed him. The kiss had turned into more tongue and teeth than lips on Alfred's behalf, but he was paying more attention to the coiling heat in his lower abdomen. With his arms around his neck, it helped America get closer to Russia, making it easier for him to rub against him.

Russia liked the feel of his tongue playing with Alfred's, exploring his mouth. It was nice, not having to force America to have sex with him. He thrust up and started giving his lover a hand job. Because they were sort of lovers now, weren't they? They were having consensual sex, they lived together, Alfred said he loved him, Ivan... had feelings for him?

Moaning incoherently, he leaned back enough so that Russia would have more room to stroke his now dripping cock. Also, the new position made Ivan hit his sweet spot more, making him groan and writhe in pleasure. Breaking the kiss, a strand of saliva connected their lips for a second before breaking as America rested his weight on his hands, making it easier for him to thrust down.

With his mouth free, Russia latched onto one of America's nipples. He started sucking, and had a great urge to bite down but didn't. He put his free hand on Alfred's butt, feeling the smoothness of the brand. The brand that forever will prove that at one point in time, at least, this ass belonged to the Soviet Union.

Alfred continued to whimper in delight; slightly surprised when Russia only sucked lightly on his nipple and didn't bite. He wanted to tell him to bite him, hurt him, but he felt way too embarrassed to do so. It was already bad enough that he had to ask to be this close to the Russian, never mind to ask him to physically hurt him. Instead, he just opted to continue making small sounds to encourage Ivan; maybe then he'd get the hint.

Feeling himself getting closer to his own climax, Russia quickened the pace of his hand to make Alfred orgasm as well. With his thumb he rubbed around the precum, making less friction with his hand. With the amount America was moaning, he guessed that he was going to finish soon.

With Russia's hand going faster, Alfred was barely coherent enough to realize that he all but screamed "_Ivan!_" as he came explosively, coating his stomach and Russia's hand. As the white lights left his vision from his own orgasm, America felt himself tighten on Russia as he thrust deeper a few more times, shooting his own hot seed into Alfred's ass.

Being surprised that America had yelled his name, Ivan found himself even more amazed when the other leaned forward onto his chest, exhausted from sex. Russia ruffled his hair, liking what he looked like after sex. "Well, that was different."

Nuzzling his naked chest, America closed his eyes and let Russia ruffle and stroke his hair. It felt soothing after having sex with him. Since he wanted it this time, he had enjoyed it immensely, no matter how embarrassed he was at points. Now he just hoped Russia would continue to have loving, consensual sex with him. "Я... Я тебя люблю" He mumbled, his face still pressed against the large chest in front of him.

Not knowing what to do, Ivan decided to just nod. "You have been practising. Nice pronunciation."

Glaring weakly up at Russia, America muttered, "I say I love you to you in _your_ language and all you can say is 'Nice pronunciation'?" He ran his short nails lightly down Russia's chest as he curled his hands into loose fists.

"Well it was very good pronunciation. For an American, of course." Ivan wiggled down so he was lying on his back and Alfred had his head on his chest. "Shall we go to sleep?" Russia asked, while putting aside the thought of making America spend the night in the basement just for fun.

Nodding once more, Alfred said, "Да." Closing his eyes, he relaxed on top of his chest and forgot about the already drying cum that was in between them. "Ivan?" he started, keeping his eyes closed. "Thank you... y'know, for this."

Once again, Ivan was confused. America was thanking him for fucking him? What a strange guy. Oh well, he was tired and already starting to go to sleep. "You're welcome."

Not bothering to respond, he just slowed his breathing down and fell asleep on top of his lover. After all, now that they both had admitted their love, they would be considered lovers; it only made sense.

* * *

Well, fairly obvious, but Я тебя люблю means I love you. It is pronounced Ya yebya lublu. But yeah, I hope you all like this fluffy stuff. Because for some reason I want to gag... But schoolgirl-cheesesculpture also likes the fluffy. So we will see how this turns out. And, until next time, Я тебя люблю!


	34. Chapter 34

Waking up, Russia realized he was stuck to Alfred. That was alright, because he didn't need to wake up right now. The sun was streaming in the window, showing the grass outside. It was still quite cold out, but it wouldn't start snowing for another couple of weeks.

America slowly came into consciousness as he felt Russia's heart beat increase under his ear. He had been drifting in and out for a while, waiting for Ivan to wake up before he did anything. At first he had tried to roll off to lie beside him only to find that their abdomens were stuck together with dried cum. "Morning." He mumbled groggily, gazing up at Ivan's face.

"Good morning. I suppose we should get cleaned up." Russia said. Alfred nodded and they pried themselves apart. They started walking into the nearest bathroom together, and Ivan was curious. "There is only one bathtub in this bathroom, you know."

Nodding shyly, America said, "I was hoping to have a bath with you... If that's ok." A light blush dusted his face as he looked up at Russia, both of them still completely naked.

"Alright." Ivan started the water running, making it the perfect temperature. Well, the perfect temperature for America, anyway. Russia had always liked his baths a little on the cold side. He got in and motioned Alfred to follow.

Slipping into the large bathtub, America went to the opposite side as Russia. Looking at each other, he then slid over to Ivan, putting his hand on his stomach. "I-Is it ok if I wash you? I mean, it was my fault and all..." Alfred looked to the wall as he asked, too embarrassed to look anywhere else.

Russia nodded, letting Alfred run his wet hands over his chest and stomach, washing away the crusty cum. When he was finished, he started moving on to the rest of his body, but Ivan stopped him. "Now it's my turn to wash you."

Alfred also nodded as Ivan's large hands started washing him off it turn. Once the cum was off of his body, Russia reached over him and grabbed shampoo. Motioning America to get his hair wet, he poured a bit on his hand. Then he then rubbed them together and started washing his hair.

When there was sufficient suds, Ivan told him to rinse it out again. He did so, and Russia pictured himself holding America down until he passed out, bringing him back to resuscitate him, and doing it over again. Of course he held back, because that would no doubt be considered torture.

After America's hair was clean, he sat there, washing the rest of his body off that Russia didn't do. When he was done, he looked back over to Ivan and slid over to him again. Leaning up, he kissed him lightly and moved back, getting out of the tub as quickly and silently as possible. Grabbing a towel, he dried his hair and wrapped it around himself, making his way to his room.

Russia stayed in the bath a few minutes longer. He had always had thoughts of torturing and killing people, but never before were they so strong. And this was the one time where he didn't want to act on them. Could he stop himself much longer? Or would the urge get too strong and he would once again find himself with blood on his hands?

The worst case scenario would be if he had a relapse of what he used to do when he was younger. At times he would blank out, and when he came to he was the only living thing in the middle of carnage. There would sometimes be severed limbs around him, sometimes it would all be blunt force trauma. One time every last body had been disemboweled and their heads cut off. He hoped this wouldn't happen, but those had only stopped when he had finally started listening to his urges instead of suppressing them, like he was doing now.

There had to be some way he could stop himself from doing things like that. There _had_ to be a way!

.oOo.

Alfred woke up the next day in his bed. He had wanted to sleep with Russia again, but he felt like Ivan was being somewhat awkward with having him around all the time. Also, since he had slept alone, he was looking forward even more to sleeping beside him tonight.

Getting up and putting on some clean clothes, he then went into the hallway. He walked to Russia's room and knocked on the door before opening it. When he didn't see Russia in there, he closed the door behind him and walked down to the kitchen to see if maybe he was making breakfast.

With no tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen, Alfred went in anyways to grab a few things to eat. Idly, he wondered just where Russia was as he continued to nibble on his food. Too nervous to check the basement lest Ivan was waiting for him, he went back upstairs to Russia's room. Lying on the bed, he waited while learning Russian for him to come back.

Looking up from his work, Ivan heard America walking around. He had been just in time. He bent over once more.

He looked in the eyes of a bound and gagged Latvia. "Well, it's been a while since you were down here, hasn't it, Raivis?" There was a terrified squeal, and the shaking man's eyes grew wider. "You see, I need to have some fun. I haven't had any for a while. And now I'm going to have some." There was a glint of light off of the knife Ivan was holding.

.oOo.

Changing into the clean clothes he had hidden in another room earlier, Russia discarded the bloodied ones and ascended the wooden staircase. At the door, he listened; making sure Alfred wouldn't see him coming out of the basement.

Once out, he looked for his lover. He found him reading in his bed.

Looking up from his book when he heard the door open, Alfred smiled as he saw Russia. He knew if he stayed in Ivan's room long enough he would see him again. "Hi." He said quietly, placing the book to the side.

Smiling, Russia went over to the bed. It was nice having someone that was happy to see him. It was also nice to be able to vent his blood lust. He wondered what America would think if he knew that two floors down there was a bleeding Latvia lying on the floor, probably still unconscious.

"Were you upstairs today? I couldn't find you." He asked innocently, moving over a bit so that Ivan could sit down beside him. "I thought that if I stayed here long enough you would come back."

"Oh, sorry, I felt like going for a walk. The sunrise was so colourful this morning. Did you see it?" Ivan said, sliding smoothly into his lie. Well, he _had_ seen the sunrise, it was just that he had been in the helicopter instead of on the ground.

"No, but I wish I did." Alfred said, wanting to cuddle up to Ivan but stopping himself. Even though he had said 'I love you' a bunch already, since he had said it, Russia had stopped. It bothered him only a bit, instead focusing on the fact that now he wasn't being raped or tortured. "Ivan... Could I sleep with you again tonight? I mean, just beside you." He clarified.

"Of course. I don't mind." Ivan smiled, thinking how things would work out. Would America wake up if he left in the middle of the night? Or maybe if he just woke up early and left, he could come up with another excuse. At this point, he suspected Alfred would believe anything. He noticed him staring at his face. He panicked slightly. Was there blood on it? What did he see?

"Good, because... I kinda felt lonely last night..." He admitted, looking down at his legs. Alfred knew he shouldn't feel so awkward around him, but he still couldn't help but remember the time when even the smallest comment would have Russia torturing him. Although he had tried to stop remembering, he just couldn't help but have minor flashbacks that made him all the more glad of what had happened now.

America scratched the scar on his face idly, picking away at the crunchy scab. Even Ivan's strange mood shift was becoming water under the bridge for him.

"Well, have you had breakfast yet? I was just about to make some eggs." Ivan said, glad America hadn't said anything about blood on his face. He would have to put a mirror down there next time so he could check.

"Kinda, but it wasn't a proper breakfast. I'm not hungry though." He said, wondering just what else he was going to do today. There was only so much time he could spend learning Russian before his brain became slightly numb. Maybe he would read an English book. "Did you get more English books?" He asked, totally changing the topic.

"Ya, I have them over here." Russia went behind his desk and took out a box. Inside there were a bunch of English books, mostly about things like war and death. "This should keep you preoccupied for a while." Yes, maybe so preoccupied that he wouldn't notice that Ivan was in the basement. Possibly for a few hours.

Looking over them and reading the various titles, America said, "Thank you," as he pulled out one at random. True, he normally would find books about war and death 'heroic and awesome' but now they were mostly to help pass the time. "Can I read now? Or is there something you want me to do?"

"No, go ahead and read. I'll just be around the house. I will call you when supper is ready." America nodded and went off to start reading. Ivan went to the kitchen to get some bread and water. Then he went down to the basement. Latvia was conscious now, so he put the bread and water by the door. "You will get these when I'm finished with you."

Of course Raivis was still gagged so he said nothing back. Ivan took out a bottle of acid. "Don't worry, this will hurt me more than it hurts you." He said as he pulled Latvia's sleeve up. Then he let the acid slowly drop on the skin, and muffled screaming filled his ears. "Oops, I lied about that." Russia said, laughing.

Wanting to hear more of the screams, he took off the gag. Instantly there were whimpered gasps of pain, much louder than the ones America always used to give. "N-n-no, please... please don't..."

"Too bad, I'm not going to stop because I was asked." Russia laughed, glad that this room was sound-proof. He raked his fingernails across the barely-healed cuts he had inflicted earlier.

"W-wh-why?" asked the smaller country, pathetically.

"Because I can." Ivan poured more acid on the quivering arm, and then stopped the flow. He took the bottle up, and let the drops fall one by one, on Latvia's neck. More tortured screams filled the room, making Russia happy.

What time was it? How long had he been down here? Russia wondered if Alfred was going to be looking for him soon. And... oh shit! He hadn't left any clothes down here this time! Well, there wasn't any blood on him so far, and as long as he didn't get some on his clothes he would be fine. If there was some dirt he could just say he was cleaning or something.

Due to the confines of needing to not break skin, Ivan decided that he would do one last thing and then go back upstairs. With this, he should be fine for the rest of the day. So he put the lid on the acid and took out his knife, but just cut the rope tying his hands. Then Russia took his right arm and quickly twisted, hearing a satisfying crack as the bone snapped. Raivis cried out in pain and clutched his broken arm close to his body, not being able to say a word due to the pain. Ivan walked to the door, leaving the bread and water there.

Once upstairs, he saw Alfred sitting in a chair, still reading. "How is the book?"

"Good. Thank you for getting them again." America half lied. It wasn't that the book wasn't good, as much as that he just wasn't paying enough attention to it in the first place. Reading never really was his idea of a fun pastime, but now he really had nothing better to do.

Even just since this morning, Russia had started to almost 'loosen up'. His smile had turned more carefree and he didn't seem as distant. Alfred just shrugged it off, figuring that he was just getting used to having someone reciprocate his feelings.

"Well, that's good. What do you want to do now? You could continue reading, if you want. Or we could do something else." Ivan felt happy; he wanted to do something other than lounge around the house.

"I don't mind. What would you like to do?" America asked. He didn't really want to read more, but he did want to spend more time with Russia.

"Well, I have a deck of cards. Why not play a game?" Alfred agreed and Russia went to get the cards. When he got back, he said half-jokingly, "Why not play strip poker?"

"If you want to..." Alfred said quietly, not quite sure if Russia was being completely serious. He wouldn't mind if he was, but at the same time he could tell where it would end up.

Russia smiled. This was the life. His lust for blood was being taken up, as well as his lust for sex. So what if they were being eased by two different people? America had no reason to go in the basement with all of his memories there, and Raivis couldn't get out of his room. The perfect situation.

* * *

So, the story we wrote for Sexykill69 is called Hot Waters, for anyone who wants to read it.


	35. Chapter 35

America woke up alone in Russia's bed once again. Every day of the last week he had done so, making him sad as well as a bit suspicious. When he occasionally did see Ivan –which was usually just for meals and when they went to bed and had sex- he was always joyful. Not that it was a bad thing; it just made America a bit edgy. When Russia used to smile like that, it was when he had hurt Alfred.

Brushing it aside, he tried to just enjoy how happy Russia was. Currently though, he had been left by himself again with one of the new books; even more bored than usual.

Today, Ivan was playing with Latvia in his torture devices room. "You were always so short." He said, turning the crank on the rack that he had Raivis strapped to. He let out a scream as one of his joints popped out.

When he was sufficiently stretched, Russia untied him. "And now for the pear! Don't worry, I cleaned it specially for you." Latvia was obviously confused but he didn't want to know. Then Ivan took it out. "You need to take your pants off." He said seriously.

"P-please, don't do this." Raivis whimpered.

"Too bad, I'm doing it. Now take your pants off and show me your ass!" Ivan said, sounding annoyed. He knew that Latvia would do anything with a little encouragement. When the pants were off, he started pushing the cold metal device into the small hole.

Latvia shivered as it was pushed in all the way. It was past feeling uncomfortable, since it had been over a year since the last time he had been raped by Russia.

Once the Pear was pushed in all the way, Ivan started turning the crank, opening it wider. Raivis screamed once again, and Russia continued turning the crank. He wouldn't make it open all the way, of course. He wouldn't want to kill him, because then he would have to get Estonia, and he was always much more of a pain than Latvia.

Blood started pouring out, the Pear having opened about half way. By this point, Raivis's voice was hoarse with screaming, and he had bitten down on a piece of leather Ivan had given him earlier. The pain must have been tremendous.

Eventually Russia started turning the crank the other way, making the Pear go back to its original size. When it was as small as it would go, he took it out.

"Now, I'm going to let you go back to your room, but I don't want you to make any unnecessary noises." Russia picked up something that was made completely of iron poles, and fit around the head. Where the mouth would go, there was an iron post extending to the inside, and on the end there was an iron ball with spikes on it. "These spikes should cause minimal damage if your tongue does not move."

With nothing better to do, Alfred had resorted to cleaning the house. It hadn't been thoroughly cleaned since he and Russia did it a while ago, so he figured that Ivan would appreciate it; especially since he was doing it without being asked. Grabbing the cleaning supplies he thought he would need, America got to it.

First he cleaned out his room, since he had been spending less and less time in there. Then, he continued with the multitude of rooms on that level: dusting, mopping and any other things they needed.

With the second floor done, he went upstairs and made short work of the third level. It took him less time because no one occupied those rooms so all there really was to clean was dust. Making his way to the main floor, he started in the kitchen, getting some food to eat first. Getting to work, he started on the rest of the rooms on that level; taking the most time of them all.

This time, Ivan had made sure that he had extra clothes. He also had a mirror, so he checked his face before going back up. Once again he listened at the door. Shit! Alfred was moving around there. He would have to wait for a bit.

Eventually he heard America move onto a different room, so he quickly opened the door and went out. He went to the front door, making it look like that's where he had come from. Then he went to go see Alfred. He was surprised to find him cleaning.

"Hi. Where have you been? I missed you..." America admitted, looking up from his cleaning. What else was he to say? It was the truth after all, and wasn't it better than to lie? "Did you go to a meeting?" America asked as he stood up from the floor.

"Yes, ruling the world can be a time-consuming job. But it looks like you were busy while I was away! This place looks so clean!" Russia said, looking around. It had occurred to him a while ago that most men in his position would feel guilt at lying to their lover, but he hadn't felt guilt since he was a child.

"You're welcome. It gave me something to do." Even though Russia hadn't said thank you, it seemed that would be the closest he would get. For a moment he stood there, trying to picture what the world was like now that Ivan was in charge, but he quickly shook his head. "Did everything go well in your meeting?" Alfred felt like he had to talk to Russia about something, but he couldn't figure anything else out.

Russia's smile was confusing, because it looked to Alfred like he was expressly happy over something. Which was the truth, Ivan was very happy with how the 'meeting' had gone. "Yes, it went very well."

Nodding lightly, America replied. "Good..." There was nothing else really for him to say, so he just continued staring at Russia's face. The smile there was a bit strange, but he was happy, and that was the important part. Wasn't it? He had never had an actual lover before, never mind one as twisted as his now.

Russia bent over and quickly kissed Alfred on the lips then went up to his room. Yes, having a lover was defiantly nice, which is why he wasn't going to ruin it by hurting him, or letting him know about the broken man downstairs. If America stayed in the dark, all would be well.

* * *

Sorry for the short chapter! It was the only good place to stop it, really. Anyway, please don't hate us. Just keep that in mind. But anyway, angsty!Russia has seemed to be replaced with cheating boyfriend!Russia. Oh well, we will see where this goes.


	36. Chapter 36

Waking up a bit, America felt the bed move as Ivan got off it. He didn't think anything of it until the door was opened and Russia snuck out. As Alfred got out of bed as well, he thought that 'sneak' was the perfect word. Ivan was making sure to make little to no sound as he walked down the hallway and down the stairs.

Insanely curious, he followed Russia down the stairs, making sure he wasn't caught as well. When he went down the stairs to the basement, closing the door behind him, Alfred was even more confused. Why would he be going down there this early in the day? He waited for a moment as he contemplated it, hoping that he would appear again. When he didn't, Alfred made his way to the door, opening it and standing at the top of the stairs.

"Ivan?" He said questioningly down the stairs. With no response, he said it again, but louder. Just what was he doing down here?

Eyes wide, Russia listened for Alfred to leave. But he just stayed there, calling his name. Then Latvia heard it, so he started making noise, wanting to be saved.

He walked quickly over to Raivis, knife in hand. Quickly, he grabbed his hair, making his head go up, exposing his throat. Before the smaller nation could make any more noise, he slit his throat, blood going everywhere. Latvia's body went limp in his arms, the life quickly draining out of him.

Footsteps. Shit, was he coming down? It sounded like it. Where could he hide the body? Could he change his clothes fast enough? But he was absolutely covered in blood. Damn, why was Alfred coming down the stairs? He would find him eventually.

Hearing a small thump come from downstairs, he descended, a bit nervous. Going down here was never a good thing for him. The rooms held too many bad memories. Looking around the hall with confused eyes, Alfred saw that one of the rooms door's was slightly opened compared to the rest which were tightly closed. Going straight for it, America's eyes went wide as he saw Ivan surrounded and covered with crimson blood.

Floundering for a few seconds, he was unsure of what to do. Without thinking, he walked into the room and stared at Russia. "What..." he started completely confused as to what had happened.

Ivan stood in front of the cot, trying to hide Latvia's body, which he had shoved under the bed. "Hello! Um, what are you doing down here?" He tried to sound innocent, thinking of a reason why he was covered in blood.

"You... Blood..." America's mind was so shocked that he couldn't get out a full sentence. What had happened for Russia to become covered in blood? Did he get hurt? Or was there someone else... "What happened?" He asked shakily, gesturing to the evident carnage.

"I fell down the stairs." Ivan said, knowing even as the words came out of his mouth that America would never believe them. "It's really no big deal; it looks like there is a lot more blood than there is."

"But..." He started, his forehead furrowing in confusion. "Where's the wound? Are you hurt?" Alfred went to walk up to Russia to look for the wound but was stopped by the pool of blood around him. "You couldn't be alive after losing this much blood..."

"Well, uh..." Lost for another lie, Russia realized how stupid this was. What should he care if Alfred hated him? "Ah, fuck it." He bent over and pulled out the body. "You're right; no one could survive loosing that much blood."

Stepping back quickly, America's heart beat raced in his ears. All he could focus on was the limp, pale body that was in Russia's arms. "L-L-Latvia?" He stuttered uncontrollably, even more disgusted with the blood around Ivan. "Wh-When did he get here?" Alfred was at a total loss to what was going on. How was Raivis here in the first place?

"Hm, about two weeks, I would say." Russia dropped the body on the ground, and his shirt came up, revealing many barely-healed wounds. Now, what to do with the corpse? Bury it, since the ground wasn't frozen? Or maybe he should just...

The blood on the ground, along with the mangled body, brought him back to when he was younger. His caretaker, on the ground, in much the same position, also covered in blood. The first time he had blacked out, and found that the only person that ever took care of him was dead, and her blood was all over him.

As quickly as it came, the vision left. He looked up at his terrified lover, even though he probably wouldn't be his lover much longer, given the look in his eyes.

"Why?" America asked quietly. "Is this where you were all the time? With Latvia?" His voice grew a hard edge to it as his eyes narrowed minutely. The body was disturbing him more now that he could see his obviously slit neck and multitude of cuts.

"Yes, I was here with Latvia. I'm growing tired of this conversation, so let's go upstairs and go back to sleep, shall we? Just let me change..."

"No!" Alfred yelled before realizing that he did so. Lowering his voice, he continued "I mean, why did you bring him here? Am I..." He left his sentence hanging, not quite sure himself just what he wanted to say. Tons of thoughts were running through his mind and he didn't know which ones to pay attention to and which to just ignore.

"Well I just needed to hurt someone! That's just who I am, you should know that the best out of everyone! Most men need sex, and for me sex is great, but I also need to have that exhilaration of seeing people's eyes light up with pain, blood gushing from wounds, and hate in their every movement. The joy of putting someone through the most pain they have ever been in, in their lives! Pushing the boundaries of human capability, seeing just when they pass out from pain and exhaustion. You would never understand."

Hearing Russia explain partially how his mind worked didn't surprise America as much as he thought it would. It strangely made sense really; he just had hoped it wasn't the truth. Now it was going to be more difficult to say what he was going to next. "Then... Is that why you brought me here in the first place?" Before Russia could respond, Alfred continued. "Are you bored with me? Is that why you needed Raivis?"

"No, it's just that if I did this to you, then you would hate me again. And I figured since you're the only person that has ever said you loved me that I should keep it like that for as long as possible." He gave a little laugh. "I guess that wasn't very long."

"I w-wouldn't hate you... I _couldn't_ hate you..." He mumbled looking up at his blood spattered face. "Unless that's what you want me to do..."

"No, I don't want you to hate me. If I wanted you to hate me I would have just tortured you instead." Russia explained, shaking his head. He looked down at all the blood on his clothes. It will take a while to get all this out... "So, wait, you still don't hate me?"

America shook his head, slightly surprised by his own reaction. He didn't even have to think; he knew he still loved Russia. He might have just killed someone after torturing them behind his back, but he couldn't help but strangely forgive him. After all, love does strange things to people. "I still love you." He mumbled trying to ignore the blood covering everything and the body at Ivan's feet.

"Oh... ok." Russia said, trying to understand the blonde's mind-set. But this still left a big problem. "Alfred, you realize that I'm going to have to bring at least one other person here, right? Like I said before, I need to torture someone."

"You don't have to." He said simply. Continuing before Russia could stop him, he added, "You can just torture me. I don't mind." Where did that come from? Was he really that jealous that Russia had spent more time torturing Latvia then being around him? Did he want to resign himself back to being tortured by his now-lover? America continued to stare blankly up at Russia, trying not to show any emotion.

Ivan blinked a little. America _wanted_ him to torture him? Really? Well, he wasn't about to pass this chance up. "Ok, I guess that can work. But I'm fine for today, so let me get changed and we'll go back to sleep." He looked down at the body at his feet. "I guess we can cremate him in the morning, like you did with Lithuania."

"Ok." Alfred nodded again in agreement. "But please change..." He partially whined. The blood had started to congeal around and on Russia, making everything just that much more surreal. Also, there was a strange stench hanging in the air of the room. "Wh-when do you want to," he swallowed before continuing, "torture me."

"I don't know, when I want to. Not right now, though. I – uh... got my fill for today." Ivan said awkwardly. He stepped around the body and went to where his extra clothes were. He took off the bloody ones and took a wet facecloth, getting the blood off his face as well. He was still naked when he turned around and saw America at the door.

When Russia had started cleaning himself, Alfred had started to stare at Latvia's cooling body. His hair was dirty and had his blood crusting in as well as all over his body. Nothing that Raivis was wearing looked clean either, making America believe that Ivan had just left him in this room for the two weeks he was there.

Before he could stop himself, tears started falling silently from his face. He had seen many bodies before, but just like with Lithuania, he was closer to him than any random soldier. Also, the sight of seeing yet another country dead made his heart weep, yet at the same time feeling strangely happy that Russia had kept him alive. Unlike Russia, having a person die in cold blood made him upset and emotional.

Getting his shirt, Russia pulled it over his head. "You know you don't have to do this, right? I mean, I can just get some commoner or something. It wouldn't matter much if they disappeared."

"I know... But..." How was he supposed to say that he was almost _jealous_ that he was spending more time torturing Raivis then with him? And now Latvia was dead, yet he still couldn't shake the feeling. Instead, he just stopped talking, watching as Russia continued putting on his clean, blood-free clothes.

"Well, we can talk about it later. Right now, let's go to bed." They walked upstairs and crawled into the bed. Russia didn't put his arm around Alfred, thinking he would find the tall man disgusting now.

Crawling closer to Russia, America put his head on his shoulder and his arm across his broad chest, pulling them closer together. True, any other normal person would be disgusted with Ivan for murdering someone, but Alfred didn't mind. Sure he cared about Raivis and the fact that he wasn't alive anymore, but it was Russia that did it. And the sad thing was that he was ok with it because of that fact.

The only thing that had bugged him still was the part about him raping Latvia. He had never said he did, but if it was anything like when he was tortured in the beginning, it would have mostly been rape. "I love you Ivan." He murmured, contradicting his own thoughts.

"Go to sleep now." Ivan said, putting his arm around America's shoulders.

* * *

-hides under table- schoolgirl-cheesesculpture! Come under here before they murder us!

Sorry for killing him off... I swear, we do not have anything against the Baltic States! And besides, you all wanted America to find out... and this is where that ended up. So yeah, don't hate us!


	37. Chapter 37

Russia saw Alfred sitting in a chair, reading. The curve of his neck was just so perfect that it made him want to wrap his large fingers around it, pressing down on his windpipe, and watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.

No, no no no! He wasn't going to do that. That would be bad.

Instead he put his hand lightly on America's shoulder.

Alfred gazed over his shoulder to see Russia looking down at him. Smiling weakly, he said, "So... When do you need to... y'know...?"

"Hm... now would be good." He said, pictures appearing in his mind of the different ways he could kill America with the things in the room. He wouldn't even need the knife in his pocket. Just that lamp would do the job. Or he could break the window and use a shard of glass. That would be interesting.

"O-o-ok." America stuttered, putting the book to the side. He knew what was going to happen so he had started to shake as he walked to the door. "Where are we going?" Forcing himself to sound confident, he watched Russia's grin as he came toward him.

"Um, my room, I guess." Russia walked up the stairs, heading for his room. Alfred followed along, extremely quiet. They went inside and Ivan pointed to the bed. "You know the drill."

Nodding, Alfred started taking off his shirt and pants quickly, going onto the bed when he was finished. Unsure of how Ivan wanted him to lay, he just went on his stomach; arms and legs spread.

Ivan sat down on the bed as well, not sure if this was going to work. "Alright, well, since this is torture... I guess you will get no preparation?" He asked, taking out the lube. Alfred gave a small nod, so Russia unzipped his pants and took out his cock. He put the lube on and started giving himself a small hand job, making his dick hard.

He just kept his eyes closed as he felt the bed's slight rhythmic hitch as Russia made himself hard. Getting more tense as time went by, Alfred forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. Russia might be torturing him, but they loved each other and he wouldn't kill him by accident... Right? Well, at least he was pretty sure he still loved him.

Going on his knees and reaching down, Alfred started pumping his own flaccid cock, coaxing it to an erection. At least this way when Ivan raped him with no preparation, he would at least be able to get more pleasure from it.

When he was sufficiently hard, Russia went closer to Alfred, holding his cock in his hand. He started to slowly enter America, not wanting to tear anything. "Is that alright?"

In response, Alfred just pushed himself further onto Russia's shaft. Wasn't he supposed to be torturing him? Asking how he felt –America thought- ruined the idea. With the increased speed and burning feeling of being stretched wide, he gasped. It wasn't quite pleasurable, but wasn't that the point of being raped? Anything that would make him and Ivan be able to spend more time together was good, even if it was at the cost of Alfred's physical health.

He thrust in the hot confines of Alfred's tight ass, liking the feeling but at the same time worried that it was going to start bleeding again. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Th-that isn't torture." He mumbled, letting himself be fucked thoroughly. Even though it was consensual to a degree, it still felt different from when they had sex previously. "You j-just do what y-you want to do." Inside he was glad that Russia cared so much, but at the same time he could tell this isn't want he wanted. Ivan wanted to make people bleed and beg for mercy, just as he said before.

Russia thought for a minute. Alfred was saying that he should do what he truly wanted. Obviously he couldn't do that, because then America would be dead, but if he said he could do what he wanted, then maybe he wouldn't hate him for doing things. Also, if he started being more like what he used to be, he would stop having these thoughts of wanting to kill him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I love you, so I want you to be happy..." America was pretty much giving up his physical health, but at least then they would spend more time with each other and Russia wouldn't have to kill other innocent people. Lovers were supposed to do things for each other. "Just... Just hurt me."

Well, he had permission. So Ivan took out his knife. He was facing Alfred's back, which was good. So, while still thrusting in and out, he drew a shallow design on America's back. When he was finished, it was in the shape of a heart.

Alfred gasped lightly before biting his lip. It wasn't too painful, but the cuts had started to sting. They were still nothing compared to anything Russia did to him before. Maybe the fact he was being so gentle with him was because America loved him. If that _was_ the case, then Ivan wouldn't be able to torture him as much as he wanted. "I t-take it back."

Even though Alfred couldn't see him, Russia nodded. He put away the knife and pulled out, even if he wasn't finished. He had actually been waiting for America to say something like that. Of course he wouldn't want to be tortured, who would? He took off his shirt so he could use it to soak up the blood from the bare back.

"Why did you stop?" America asked innocently. He looked over his shoulder at Russia who was cleaning the blood off his back with his shirt. Just because he said he took back the 'I love you' he didn't think that Ivan would stop. If anything he thought he would pound into him with renewed vigour and act as if Alfred wasn't enjoying it.

"You said to stop." Ivan explained, looking at the wounds. They weren't deep, so they should heal soon enough. "You said you take back what you said about me doing what I want."

"I didn't say to stop. I said I don't love you." Alfred lashed out, trying to get Russia to start again. Maybe telling Ivan that he loved him was still a bad idea. He should have just let him continue with his strange mood swing and just let him torture him then.

"Well, it's not like I wasn't expecting that." Ivan walked out of the room. What was wrong with him? He had permission to torture someone! But... maybe that was the problem. There was just a difference between torturing someone who didn't want it, and someone who did. Alfred must just be an extreme masochist, so he wanted to be tortured, and the whole love thing was just an illusion.

"Then why are you going away!" Alfred yelled, trying to bring back his long-forgotten anger. "If I don't care about you, then you should want to hurt me!" Even though he didn't say it, his tone implied the rest of his message: 'Do what you want to me! Make me bleed, make me scream at you! Make me hate you with every fibre of my being if it makes you happy!' He continued following Russia; still completely naked and his cock hard.

What the hell was Alfred talking about? Well, it was obvious that he was masochistic, but to what degree? "I don't feel like it right now." But he _did_ feel like it. He wanted to give America a long painful death. His mind kept telling him to do it. He wouldn't be surprised if he blacked out soon.

Then an idea came to mind. Torture didn't have to be just physical, it could be emotional as well. It also worked to satisfy his blood-lust, if not as well. "Alfred, if we went on a... vacation, of sorts, would you not run away from me?"

Shocked by the lack of anger, America just closed his mouth for a second before responding. "Well... No... But why do you want to go on a vacation?" Now that Russia's mood had done a one-eighty of sorts, he was slightly embarrassed to be so exposed; and with an evident hard-on none less.

"I just want to. Stop asking questions. We can leave tomorrow, so pack for at least one day." Ivan continued walking away, his plan still forming in his mind. It should all work out, right?

"Ok..." He mumbled, looking at Ivan's back as he walked away. It wasn't until he disappeared down the stairs that America went back into Russia's room to grab his clothes. He was still bleeding from his ass and back a bit so he didn't bother putting any of it back on. Instead, he walked over to his room, standing in the door way a bit before going inside. Alfred hadn't gone in his own room for a while, and it felt strange now.

Dumping his clothes on the counter in the bathroom, America started up the shower, making sure it was cool enough to help get rid of his 'problem'. Stepping in, he automatically shivered from the coolness. Ignoring it though, he got his hair wet and let the water run the last of the blood of his back. Alfred made a mental note to see just what Russia had carved into his back when he was finished.

After washing his hair with shampoo and conditioner, Alfred's erection still hadn't gone down. Sighing, he let himself take it in one hand; letting out a light moan as his cock responded to the touch. Hesitantly, he started running it lightly over the length, the light scar barely touching it. America closed his eyes as the speed of his hand - No, not his hand, _Ivan's_ hand- increased.

The sound of the water was blocked to Alfred's ears as all he could hear was his own light pants and racing heart beat. Ivan's large hands would every once in a while change their speed; one second blinding fast, pushing him to the edge and the next turning into a light stroke. With his eyes still closed, he could perfectly picture Russia's large frame bent over his, looking him in the eye as his hand continued to torture America. Then, he pushed Alfred against the tiled wall, rubbing his sore back uncomfortably against the grout. Soon though, it wasn't the tiles that were digging into his back but Ivan's nails, tearing him open.

America's hand was now speeding hazardously over his dick; precum oozing from the tip. He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn't realize that the small cuts on his back had opened up and started to bleed again. He had no sense of loudness as he let out a deep moan, rubbing his palm across the head of his cock and down the sides. Without thinking, he took his other hand and placed it on his neck, dragging his fingernails along it lightly. When he reached his collarbone, he increased the pressure, peeling back skin and drawing blood.

Another moan escaped his lips as he continued to drag down, stopping only to pull aggressively at one nipple. None of this was America's doing; Russia was the one spilling his blood and taking his own pleasure from it. He then took his -No, Russia's- same hand and squeezed his balls tightly, causing him to let out a pained moan. Increasing the speed of his hand and his back, he squeezed even tighter as a blinding flash of white light took over his vision. Moaning Russia's name, cum shot out violently from his cock in ribbons, coating his hand and the shower wall.

Realizing just what he had done, Alfred shakily let go of himself and started washing off. He was mortified about what he did; not because he had pleasured himself but everything that had happened during it. Obviously he had pictured other people during it before, but never did he hurt himself. Also, he thought even more distraught, he had never had an orgasm like that with only his hand. Turing the shower head so he could wash off the wall, Alfred continued to shake lightly from his orgasm and from the realization. He really _did_ want Russia to hurt him, and that kind of scared him.

Making sure the new blood was washed off of him as well as from his ass, America shut off the shower and grabbed his towel to dry himself off. Once dry, he grabbed his clothes and put them in a pile for laundry. He then grabbed a few clothes for the 'vacation' and placed them on his chair before laying on his bed. After everything that happened, he didn't think that sleeping with Ivan would be the best idea. Exhausted, Alfred quickly fell asleep even though it wasn't even night.

* * *

Sorry for not posting for a while, but with Christmas and everything we haven't had much time on the computer. Anyway, there is something that we both want to mention. This was always meant to be a dark, twisted story, from way back when it was just an idea. And seriously, it is going to get worse. Maybe not for a few chapters, but it will. Just wanted to warn you all of that, and when it gets to then, if you have decided to continue reading, then you can't blame us if you hate it. What I'm trying to say is that if you are already having a problem with all the bad shit, we will not hold it against you if you decide to quit reading.


	38. Chapter 38

Waiting for America to get in the helicopter, Russia sat, already plotting a course. Deciding which would be the quickest way, he gave a small nod. Finally Alfred sat down in his seat. Ivan pushed the safety button, and off they went.

Looking anywhere but at Russia, Alfred opted to look out the window of the helicopter. The ground was still green with life, but the resent coolness that had blew back in made it feel like it would snow at a moment's notice. America wanted to ask Ivan where they were going, but he figured that staying silent would be for the best.

The flight was passed in almost complete silence. Russia landed the chopper when they arrived at their destination. "Here we are!" The terrain was a little rough, and it looked like a dessert, with a few cacti around in the hot sun. It was a beautiful place, totally different from the cold of Russia. A few birds flew overhead.

America wasn't even out of the helicopter before he started sweating. His body had grown so used to the ever-present chill of Russia that this new place was just about unbearable. Even though he was just wearing pants and a t-shirt, he felt as if he could melt into a pile of sweat.

Gazing over the wasteland, Alfred subconsciously compared it to Russia's homeland. Instead of snow, there was tons of sand and instead of small bushes and short, tough grass there were tall, lone standing cacti. "Where are we?" America finally asked, watching the two birds circle over them eerily. The climate seemed to be somewhat familiar, but he figured it was just from one of the war books he had read.

Russia smiled. Just as he had planned. "You don't remember? You have been here before, I would think you would remember." He shook his head in seeming disappointment, when really it was all going as planned.

"Really?" He asked, still not looking at Ivan. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to think of places he had been to before that were deserts. "Are we in Africa somewhere?" It was the most logical guess, since it was covered in deserts. "Or Australia?"

"Nope." Yes, this was going to be a nice bit of mental torture for the clueless blond. So would their next stop, if everything played out right, which they usually did. "We are in America." He said simply, letting his words sink in.

"Oh." He mumbled, not really thinking through just what Russia said. "_Oh..._" Alfred gasped, his mind going numb. So this is what had become of his beautiful country. He just stood in shock, his body ignoring the blazing heat. Without thinking, he started to run in a random direction, wanting to see more of his country. Which state were they in? Wasn't there supposed to be lush fields or forest or cities? Sure there were a few deserts, but why did it seem to be engulfed with desolate sand? Right, the bombs. Alfred had been so caught up in everything for the past eleven months that he had almost completely forgotten just why he had agreed to follow Russia to his house so long ago.

Running out of energy, Alfred fell to the ground, his hands getting burnt by the scorching desert sand. Tears wanted to fall but he was already so thirsty that they refused to do so.

Walking after him, Russia saw the fallen man and went over to him. "You had said you would not try to run away."

Silent sobs wracking through his body, America just mumbled. "I didn't run away... I just..." He had a mantra playing in his head, reminding himself that this was for Russia. All of this was to help make Russia feel better so he wouldn't have to torture or kill others. This probably wasn't even his country. He still loved Russia, and Ivan still loved him. This was just how he showed it. But, no matter how much he tried forcing himself to believe that, it still drove a stake through his heart.

"Well, since this is apparently too painful for you," The happiness that spread through Russia's body at those words was exquisite. Seeing Alfred crying like that was great. Not as great as torturing Latvia had been, but still wonderful. "I guess we should go to the next place."

Nodding, Alfred stood up and swallowed thickly, his face contorted with pain. Walking slowly, he refused to look over at Russia. When they reached the helicopter again, America crawled into it, glad to be leaving such a blazing hot place. Russia was most likely lying, since his country wouldn't have turned into a vast desert. Flying over his country, that was all he could see from miles on end, which just further cemented the fact that it couldn't be the United States. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

Things had gone exactly the way Russia had planned. And, the best part of it was, Alfred already hated him, so this didn't change a thing! And it wasn't like Ivan cared at all that he wasn't loved anymore. No one had loved him his entire life, and it never changed anything before this, so it would all be fine. Perfectly fine.

Alfred just continued to watch out the window as they lifted off from the desert. Everything was messed up lately, but he had to keep reminding himself that he was doing it for Russia. Ivan now thought that he didn't love him so he was able to torture him and enjoy it. Well, he did still love him, didn't he? So many things were messed up that America had to keep reminding him that he did. Ivan was keeping him alive in turn for him to have someone to torture and break. How could they not love each other?

Not wanting Alfred guessing where their next destination was, Russia flew over the ocean for a bit, before making a large turn in the right direction. They got there, and he stepped out. "This was the closest place to land the chopper. We have to walk for a little bit, alright?"

Unable to trust his voice, the shorter blond just nodded his head a bit as he got out of the chopper as well. He once again had no idea where they were, and he didn't want to know either. If they were on a vacation, he wanted to enjoy it somewhat, and he couldn't do so if he was constantly worrying. Following behind Russia, they started to walk through the field they had landed in.

Once out of the field, they came on to a populated area. Russia looked around, knowing the sight of it. It looked like it was once a very busy town, but now it almost looked like a ghost town. The few people there looked as if they had nothing to live for, and some were disfigured-looking. Ivan looked to his companion, who had a horrified expression on his face. "So, what do you think?"

"What did you do...?" America asked, his voice quiet with disgusted awe. "It's like..." He didn't know what to say. It felt as if the city was just barely hanging on to the last threads of life. Those who were alive looked like the wind could blow them over. What was this supposed to prove? That Russia was taking over the world? Alfred already knew that. After all, he was the lucky one that was able to live with Russia without worrying about dying himself.

"What did I do? You just assume it was me? Although you are partially right. But it could also be said that you are partially to blame. This _is_ because of your country." Russia looked around and saw the hospital. "I guess that is filled to bursting capacity. After all, they have free health care, and Canadian hospitals have always been somewhat crowded."

"C-Canadian?" He stuttered, making sure he heard right. Wasn't taking him to his own country bad enough? Did he really have to show him just how bad off his brother was? Even though Russia said it was partially his fault, he knew the only reason was because of their border. Russia bombed him; he didn't bomb Canada.

"Yes, the radiation wasn't too good for him. That is part of the reason he joined me, of course there were other reasons, as well. For example, when he no longer had his big brother protecting him, other nations started to invade him, taking the things you took for granted, like lumber and water. Now, at least, he is safe from things like that." Russia looked at Alfred, seeing how hurt he was. He smiled once again. "What is wrong? Your brother abandoned you, did he not? You shouldn't care what happens to him now."

Alfred just looked to the ground before gazing up at Russia with glazed eyes. "He did but... He's... He's still my brother. He shouldn't have just given up so easily!"

"What do you mean, given up? He is still fighting to survive. It's not like he started to act differently: listening to peoples every whim just so he won't get hurt, so much so that he would get a piercing in a most undignified place and let someone else clean it for him."

His mind going blank, America had the first urge in a while to jump up and strangle Russia. Instead, he just slowly let out his breath and continued to breathe. Ivan was just doing this to make himself feel better. Maybe he did want Alfred to fight back, but he still cared about him. It was becoming more difficult, but it just showed his devotion that he hadn't acted on impulse. At the same time though, it had exactly proved Ivan's point, even if America didn't think of it that way.

"He joined you instead of everyone one else. Of course he gave up." Alfred carefully avoided the last half of what Russia said. It was the sad truth, but it had all seemed worth it at the time. Maybe though, it wasn't for the best. Maybe if he had continued to fight then Russia would have grown bored with such an uncooperative pet and let him go. Everything was becoming more complicated.

"Well, there wasn't much point of joining the other side. They were losing already. Now they have almost given up hope. Your brother was smart, the rest are stupid. I suppose you could call it giving up, but considering most of the world has done so, it was a good move for him." Russia said as he started walking. "Well, I suppose we should go eat."

"Eat? Here?" He asked incredulously. These people barely looked nourished themselves. How did Russia think that they would be getting some of there precious food?

"Yes. Of course, most of the high class restaurants have gone out of business, do to most everyone being poor, but I suppose you wouldn't mind eating at McDonald's?"

The memories that came flooding back with the name of his most popular yet despised fast-food chain were painful. Most were to do with various meetings and arguments with other countries; namely England. Alfred didn't even say anything in response, opting just to follow Russia. He hadn't had a burger since when Ivan got one when he saw Canada, and he wasn't really sure if he would enjoy it anymore.

They got inside the small, shabby fast food joint. Russia walked up to the counter and ordered a double quarter pounder, and a salad for himself. They sat down at a booth. "You know, in Russia, McDonald's is considered fine dining."

America just looked down at the greasy burger, his stomach sinking. What normally would have been inhaled by the blond was now sitting innocently on the table in front of him. The smell of cooking grease was usually enough to make his mouth water and his stomach growl, but now it was just making him sick to the stomach. He shouldn't be eating this. Canada's people -no matter how much he betrayed Alfred- were starving and withering away. How could he do something so cruel? Russia was the evil one, not him.

Ivan raised his eyebrow. "What, should I have gotten you a double Big Mac, instead? Or maybe an Angus Burger, it has a lot of meat. Or whatever it is they pass that hunk of brown stuff as."

With a shake of his head, Alfred stared at the greasy wrapper for a moment longer before standing up with it. Before Russia could stop him, he walked out of the restaurant with it, looking for some people. Looking around a bit, he saw a man sitting on the ground, covered in strange burns. Placing it at his feet, he muttered a quick "Thank you" before quickly eating it. If America knew any better, he would have said that the man looked like he was the living-dead: his eyes were dull and lifeless and his skin looked ready to fall off his bones. Seeing all the destruction the bombs caused not only in his country but Canada's made his heart sink more.

Unable to deal with it all anymore, America ran back in the direction he thought the chopper was in. Russia had made him promise not to run away, but he technically wasn't. He was just going back to the helicopter to wait for Ivan.

Russia smiled and went outside. His pet was really cute, sometimes. He bent down to give the horrible tasting salad to a small child and then followed America. When he got to the helicopter, Alfred was already inside, waiting for him. "Well, what do you want to do now?"

"Go home," was the first thing out of his mouth. He didn't even have to think about it; he just didn't want to be surrounded by such pain and suffering for much longer.

Smiling at the fact that America now called the mansion in Russia his home, Ivan started up the rotors. His mind hadn't given him pictures of murdering Alfred all day, so maybe this was good enough.

As the helicopter took off, Alfred thought over all that had happened. Who called what they just did a vacation? Weren't they supposed to be relaxing and stress-free? All this one did was make America feel worse about himself and doubt his love for Ivan. He should have expected it though, since he did 'officially' renounce it. But even so, with all that had happened he had even started to question just why he was in love with him. Sure he kept him alive and safe, but what else? Russia had destroyed his country and his will. And yet, he loved him?

Finally Russia started to feel the cold of his country. It was lightly snowing, even accumulating on the ground. As soon as he landed, his passenger got out and made his way to the house. Ivan followed after him, all smiles. Mental torture wasn't as good as physical torture, but it was still nice. And maybe he would torture him soon, since he no longer had to worry about Alfred hating him again.


	39. Chapter 39

All but running to the house, America quickly went upstairs. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, but he knew he wanted to be with Russia, yet be as far away as possible. Figuring it out, he decided to do something he had done before, but not as obvious. Quietly, he snuck into Ivan's room, going straight for the closet. This time though, he made sure to shut the doors just like they were before so that Russia wouldn't guess he was in there. It really was an immature thing to do, but Alfred didn't know what to think at the moment. He really did want to believe that he was still deeply in love with the larger man, but everything that happened today made his affection waver.

Trying not to think about it, Alfred just curled up in Russia's extra clothes at the bottom of his closet, forcing himself to calm his breathing down. He didn't want to sleep, he just needed time to think things through. Plus, having Ivan's smell surrouning him made him feel slightly more at ease; as if nothing had changed. America almost wished that Russia would have just cut him open and hurt his body instead of his mind.

Ivan walked to his room. America had probably gone to his own room, because he wouldn't want to sleep with Russia anymore. He took off his shirt, not wanting to smell the grease of McDonald's anymore. Before putting another one on, he went to the window. The sunset was a beautiful sight, with the new snow on the ground.

He turned around, seeing one of his many knives on a table. He picked it up, throwing it straight up in the air. When it came twirling down, he caught it by the handle. He did so a few more times before he grew bored and threw it to the ground, the blade embedding itself in the wood. He gave a small chuckle and mumbled to himself, "Well, he definitely hates me now."

When America heard the dull sound of something being thrown at the floor, his heart beat increased. 'He knows I'm here... He's just waiting for the right moment' he thought hurriedly, covering himself with clothes so that when he opened the doors he wouldn't see him right away. After he was sufficiently hidden, America heard Russia say something, but not what he said. It made him curious, but not so much that he'd give away his cover. Maybe if he was lucky Russia would just let him stay there and he could sneak out later.

He needed to punch something. Ivan walked around the room, looking for something that wouldn't break, or he didn't care about. Yes, torturing the mind was fun, but not as fun as punching something. Or cutting things, but there wasn't much stuff that would bleed like a human. So he was stuck with punching something.

Screw it! He didn't really need walls. He punched one of the walls with all his might, braking through the drywall easily. He didn't even notice as his knuckles started bleeding. He punched it again, making the hole larger. Then, another punch, for good measure.

Hearing the louder sound, Alfred couldn't stop himself. He wanted to know just what had happened. Getting out of all the clothes that he piled on top of himself, he then slowly opened the closet door. America hoped that Russia wouldn't notice as the door was opened wide enough to see out. Ivan was standing to the side of the room by a large hole in the wall; his right hand hanging by his side and bleeding slightly. America swallowed. He wasn't sure if he should go over and take care of Russia's hand or stay in his spot. It didn't seem like he even noticed that it was hurt, never mind bleeding on the floor.

Feeling something wet trickle down his fingers, Ivan looked down and saw the blood. "Shit." He said under his breath. He really didn't feel like bandaging up wounds at the moment. It wasn't too bad, anyway. Not like it was broken. He walked to his dresser and picked out a shirt, making sure not to use his bloody hand. After a few minutes of looking at the white shirt, he decided there was no way he was going to get it on while keeping it free of blood, so he opened another drawer, picking out an old shirt with a small hole in it. He held it to his hand, wondering how the hell he was going to wrap it up himself. He had done it before, but those bandages were always temporary, because they fell off soon.

Giving in, America stood up slowly and opened the door just enough for him to slip out. "Let me bandage it." He murmured, looking at the bleeding hand.

Resisting the urge to say something along the lines of 'Where the fuck did you come from?!' Russia held out his hand and the bloody shirt. "Why do you care? You hate me, you should be happy I got hurt."

Alfred wanted to disagree and tell Russia that he loved him, but then he wouldn't be able to torture him. Instead, he took the shirt and started wrapping around the hand carefully. "Are there any real bandages around?"

"In the medical room, but it's fine with this. It's not bad." Ivan said, watching the shirt slowly turn red. "It's basically just so that I don't get blood everywhere. It's really a pain to clean up."

Nodding, America tied the shirt so it wouldn't slip off and continued to look at it, holding it in his own hands. It really was quite large with thick fingers and tough, calloused skin. Almost completely different then his own. "Why did you punch the wall?" He asked curiously, still admiring the bleeding hand.

He shrugged, not really knowing himself why he had done it. When his hand was finally wrapped up he went to the bed and sat down. He picked up the shirt he had taken out earlier and started putting it on. "So why were you in my closet?"

Shrugging as well in response, he just stood there, staring at the floor. Alfred wasn't sure if he should just leave and let Russia be or if he would want them to sleep together again. It definitely would be awkward, but if Russia forced him to then maybe he was getting back into his torturing mind set. After all, he actually didn't want to be that close to him for a while. America had enough things to sit and think over now, instead of his strange, flickering love for the Russian.

Not liking the suddenly strange atmosphere, Ivan motioned for America to come closer. "I think I should torture you now, since that was the arrangement."

As Russia finished speaking, Alfred just continued to stare straight ahead as he nodded. It really wasn't too surprising; after all, all he did today so far was torture his mind. Maybe it was like a preparation for the actual torture to make it better for him. "Where do you want me?"

"Just lie down." Ivan stood up and went to his dresser, getting something. He turned around, showing Alfred the cock ring he had pulled out. "And put this on, since it's torture."

Taking the ring, America lay down on Russia's bed. For a few seconds, he tried to put the ring on his limp cock unsuccessfully. He really didn't want to make himself hard, but he didn't wait for Ivan's instruction to do so.

Noticing Alfred's 'problems', Russia sat down. "Can you do _nothing_ on your own?" He sighed as he grabbed America's cock and shooed his hand away. He bent over and sucked on it for a few seconds before it was hard. "There. Now give me the ring."

America raised his arm shakily as he gave Ivan the cock ring. As soon as he had it, Russia slid it slowly over his cock right down the base, nestling against the coarse blond hair. When it was on, Ivan's mouth was once again around his hard cock. Slowly bobbing his head between Alfred's legs, America just barely heard the sound of a lid being opened and closed before he felt a slick finger press demandingly into his hole.

Not really knowing why he was preparing Alfred _and_ giving him lube, Russia kept on doing so, as well as teasing his shaft with his mouth. He dipped the tip of his tongue around the slit, feeling the metal ball there, and then down to the bottom of the head, all the time working his large finger into the small hole. With his free hand, Ivan fondled the ball sack, also rubbing the base of America's cock. Not wanting to wait much longer, he added two fingers, stretching it wider. Then he took his mouth off the straining cock. "Why are you holding back? Give me a moan, Alfred."

Complying to Ivan's request, America threw his head back into the pillow and let out a loud, deep moan. The feel of his dick and his ass being played with made him extremely sensitive, but he wasn't sure if he should voice himself. After all, he was torturing him, and all the other times he had held back his moans; only letting a few slip when the pleasure was too intense.

"Mm, good boy. Now for your reward." Russia took out his fingers and put himself at the entrance. He was already hard, so he started pushing in, incredibly slowly for the first half, and then he slammed the rest in as fast and hard as he could. Alfred yelled out in pain.

The sudden roughness of his thrust made America yell out. He knew he was being 'tortured' but so far it was feeling more like consensual sex. Even through the mind fog of pain, Alfred reached down to his cock; not to touch himself but to get the ball off of the wand before he forgot. It didn't seem like it would be too pleasurable if he forgot it in there.

Seeing America reach down, Ivan stopped him. "Not yet. It looks so nice, we should keep it on a little longer." He thrust in more, making Alfred's back curve. "Don't worry, I will take it out when the time comes." He game a small laugh, "Or should I say when the time _cums_."

Unable to find the humour in the situation just yet, Alfred continued to moan lightly. He figured that Russia liked it, since he continued pounding into him with more vigour for each gasp. It made him a bit nervous to leave the ball on, but if that's what Ivan wanted...

Arching as his sweet spot was grazed, he had to bite his lip so he didn't moan out Ivan's name. Since it was torture, it didn't seem appropriate to say his name; never mind during what they were doing.

Still pounding into him, Ivan put a hand behind America's neck, gently pulling him closer. He started jerking Alfred's cock at the same time that he matched their lips together, lightly brushing the smaller country's lip with his tongue, asking entrance.

Surprised at the gentleness of his kiss, America broke away. Wasn't this supposed to be painful and humiliating for him? Did Russia still think that he would hate him if he was rough? "Russia, just torture me already!" He said loudly, trying to get his point across. When he didn't do anything for a moment, Alfred continued. "I... I fucking hate you!" If that didn't get him to torture him, America didn't know what else to say. He really didn't feel that way, but it would be easier for Ivan to hurt him, and in turn feel better.

Russia stopped for a moment. He realized in a split second that he was acting stupidly. He wasn't being himself. Well, no more. Now he was going to revert back to his old self, and everyone could go fuck themselves. So he pulled out and quickly flipped Alfred over so he was lying on his stomach, and then he roughly entered him once more. When America turned his head to look up at him, Ivan grabbed him by the hair and pushed his face into the bed, slightly suffocating him. "Bitches shouldn't look at their masters without permission."

Alfred wasn't sure if he was supposed to be happy that Russia had changed back to his 'normal' self or to be terrified. Instead of thinking about it, he just let himself be fucked; barely being able to breathe from his face being shoved into the pillow. Now that Ivan was 'torturing' him, his hole started to feel sore from the painful, repeating thrusts. Unlike before, now it was evident that Russia didn't care about him. He was going to do whatever he wanted to America, and he couldn't stop him. Moaning again as his prostate was hit hard, America reached down to undo the ball at the top so that he wouldn't cum with it on.

Once again Russia stopped his toy from taking off the ball, this time digging his fingernails hard into his wrist. "I said _I'll_ take it out, so don't touch it. Just be a good whore and lay there."

Nodding as much as he could against the hand still pressing him into the bed, Alfred withdrew his hand and raised his hips higher. He just hoped desperately that Ivan _would_ take it off. America was taking it all, knowing that it was making Russia happy, but it still bothered him somewhat. It was almost as if they had gone back in time to when he would outrightly disobey him. Maybe that's what Russia wanted again. If he did something bad, then he would be able to hurt him more as a punishment. The idea was a bit nerve wracking, but Alfred swore to himself that he would try it the next time. It would hurt him more, but wouldn't it be a good way to show his devotion to his master?

Ivan ripped open America's shirt, dragging his fingers along the scab of the heart, making it bleed once more. Why the hell did he make a heart? It didn't make sense, but it was too late now. He smiled, looking at all of the scars that had amassed on Alfred's body since he had gotten here. He kept up the rhythm of his thrusts, randomly scratching or biting or hitting various parts of the back in front of him. Then he snaked a hand to America's cock, jerking it, thinking of the wand still inside, and still closed.

With a gasp, America started thrusting into Ivan's hand and in turn onto his cock. All the pain was setting his body on edge, and the good thing about it this time was that he let himself enjoy it. The other times he didn't _want_ to like it, but now he just had to not let Russia know- Even though he was more responsive. He just continued to beg him in his mind to unscrew the ball quickly so that when he came it wouldn't back up. Alfred didn't even want to think about what would happen if it was left on.

Russia laughed deep in his throat. "As long as you have the cock ring on, you won't cum." He adjusted his angle a little, and now every time he thrust, Alfred moaned and arched his back, so Ivan knew he was hitting his prostate.

Arching against Russia, each thrust made him want to cum more and more. Both the ring and ball on his wand stopped him from doing so, but he continued pushing back. Even if Ivan was getting more into it, hopefully he would still let him cum. Holding it back even at this point was almost impossible save for the ring.

Licking America's ear, Ivan started playing with one of Alfred's nipple, wondering if maybe he should pierce that, as well. Then he whispered in his ear, "You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes!" Alfred cried. The pressure that was building in his cock was starting to become unbearable. He started to stop thrusting back against Russia in order to keep himself away from climaxing. "Take the ring off!"

Smiling, Ivan took off the ring. He could tell Alfred was trying to hold back his orgasm, waiting for him to take the ball off as well. "Well, what are you waiting for? I took off the ring." He sped up the pace of his hand and cock, aiming every thrust right at the cluster of nerves he knew was there.

Alfred let out a high pitched keening sound as he reached down to his cock. With shaking fingers, he started unscrewing it off the wand, trying desperately to hold back his orgasm.

For the third time, Russia stopped him with his free hand. "What do you not understand about me taking it off when I want it taken off?" He put one of the fingers in his mouth, biting it slightly, not carrying about the strange angle it was at, being bent behind Alfred's back. His other hand was still pumping the straining cock that wanted to burst.

Tears started falling down his face as he tried to ignore just how much his cock was straining. America tried thinking of something -anything- that would stop him from trying to release. With his arm bent around his body and his ass and dick still being toyed with, Alfred continued making a variety of pained sounds. If the ball wasn't off in a few seconds, then he didn't know what would happen to him.

* * *

Important safety tip, don't try this at home! It would be bad!


	40. Chapter 40

Russia smiled, and turned Alfred's head to the side and started ravishing his lips. He sucked the other nation's tongue into his mouth and bit it until he tasted blood, and then he started to explore America's mouth. He stopped his hand for a second to squeeze the head, feeling the ball. It had loosened a little when his pet had tried to take it off, so he tightened it. He pulled away slightly so he could speak. "Are you feeling a little... uncomfortable?"

Biting his lip roughly, America continued to cry silently as his nodded his head. Any thought about this being pleasurable for Russia had left his mind; all he could concentrate on was the pain in his cock. Unable to hold it back anymore, Alfred opened his mouth wide in a silent scream as he released; the cum getting stuck from the wand. Moaning painfully, he reached right for his cock to release the ball and stop the pressure.

"This is the last time I'm going to stop you." Russia said, and he took the shirt that he had ripped open earlier and with one hand holding both of America's wrists he tied them up tightly. "For being such a naughty boy, I'm not going to untie you for a few days."

"Why?" He asked pitifully, turning his head to look up at Ivan. Yes this was torture, but didn't he still care about him? "Please, take the ball off! I want to cum!"

"I will when I think you deserve it." Russia was almost at his own limit, but when he noticed that Alfred was hard once more he decided that he had to wait until his toy came again. "You had better prove to me that you deserve it soon, because I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be good to keep it in there too long."

"Please Ivan!" Alfred begged, his body sore from the constant thrusts. Desperate, he started impaling himself with more vigour, ignoring his own growing erection. The pressure in his cock was immense, and he wanted -no, needed- release. In time with Russia's thrusts, he started to clench tightly around him, trying to bring Ivan to his own climax.

"That's not good enough." An idea occurred to the maniacal blond that made him happy. The obvious pain in Alfred's eyes also made him happy... didn't it? "But maybe," He pulled his length out of the tight hole, "you could suck me off. Then I will consider taking the ball off."

Nodding slowly, America turned around on the bed to face Russia. Without thinking too much about just where his cock was and how disgusting it was going to be, he went on his knees and bent over awkwardly in order to lick Ivan's cock from the base. Going along the shaft, the taste of it was starting to make him gag slightly. Instead of focusing on it though, Alfred just licked the tip, dipping the tip of his tongue lightly into Russia's slit.

Since he couldn't use his hands to keep him up, it was difficult for Alfred to do a good job, but he put all his energy into it. His cock was still bursting from the cum begging to be released and he was already getting hard again.

"Mm, that's nice. Bring your ass over here." Russia said, and Alfred did so without even thinking. He lay on his back, so he could also give America a blow job. He gave it a lick and felt his pet stiffen.

When Russia had gotten him to climb on top of him, he didn't know why he wasn't expecting Ivan to start sucking him off. After shaking once, Alfred then continued to lick and suck at the already slippery cock in front of him. With the change in position, it also made it somewhat easier to take the Russian's cock into his mouth. Sucking the precum from the head, he slowly lowered until he was deep throating the large erection. He continued to make fast work of Ivan's dick, hoping to bring him over the edge as quickly as possible.

Determined to make Alfred cum before himself, Russia stuck some fingers in his ass while working on his cock. He swirled his tongue around the head a few times and started deep-throating him. Then he got an idea that might work. He stopped sucking on America's dick and took his fingers out from his butt. Then, not really caring what it would taste like, he swirled his tongue around the puckered entrance and dipped it inside.

America immediately shuddered as Ivan's tongue went inside his entrance where his fingers were previously. It wasn't that it felt bad, it just was strange. The slick wetness of it compared to his fingers or cock was making his mind wander and his cock twitch. Even though his mouth was still full of Russia's thick member, he couldn't concentrate on his job. Ivan's tongue in his hole was just too... Erotic. Even the taste had dissipated from his mind.

Wanting to do something with his hands, Russia started giving Alfred a hand job. He thrust his tongue in and out, swirling it around a little. With his thumb, he smeared the small amount of cum that had escaped the Prince Albert wand, making the head slightly sticky. Because of his saliva, pumping was easy, so he could go quite fast. He changed his hold on it a few times, each one for a different feel. He noticed that when he had started licking America's ass, his own cock was getting significantly less attention. He took his tongue out just long enough to say, "Keep sucking."

Shuddering again, Alfred tried to ignore the pulsing in his abdomen and start sucking greedily at the cock in his mouth. His glasses where getting in the way, and since he couldn't take them off, America had to let them hang awkwardly off his face as his cheeks hollowed from the suction. America desperately wanted Russia to cum first so that he could get the ball taken off. If he was to orgasm first... Well, he didn't want to know what would happen.

Barely ignoring the supple tongue in his ass and the bandaged hand on his cock, America slowly released Ivan's dark red member from his mouth while running his teeth along it slightly. Rubbing his cheek along it, he then started to lick and kiss the Russian's balls; the sweat on his chest helping him move down toward them. Small kisses turned into light nips as he continued to grind his face against the cock.

Still trying desperately to not think about just how close he was to another climax, he then placed open mouth kisses along the shaft up to the head of Ivan's dick. When he got to the head, he licked it with the broad part of his tongue then sucked hard, biting down a bit and pulling.

Ivan started pumping harder, stopping on occasion to squeeze America's ball sack or the head of his cock. He could feel a vein pulsing, so he knew that Alfred was close to another orgasm. He knew that he could last until then, but not much longer afterwards. The shirt on his hand was starting to really piss him off so he unwrapped it in a hurry, not caring if he got some blood on the sheets.

Just as Russia squeezed hard, America let out a loud moan around his cock. He knew he wasn't going to last for much longer, so he doubled his efforts to make Ivan cum before him. All it took for him though were a few more hard strokes and this time as he released he let go of the still hard member in his mouth and yelled. If orgasming one time with the ball still on was painful, twice made it feel as if his cock was going to burst. He could feel a bit of the cum leak from the holes, making him want to release it all even more.

Letting go of the softening cock and taking his tongue out of Alfred's ass, Russia smiled a little before he came in America's wide-open mouth. "I suppose that deserves a reward." He said, and started taking off the ball. There was some cum around it that had already seeped out. Once the ball was off there was a spurt of cum that came out, but not as fast as it would have normally. After that, more sperm leaked out, and Ivan was amazed by the amount. When he stopped being fascinated by this, he looked up and saw America lying back, a small smile of relief on his face.

Glad that Ivan finally took the ball off, Alfred allowed himself to smile slightly even though tears of pain were still rolling down his face. He swallowed dutifully, all while trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Since his hands were tied behind his back, he had to get on his knees and shuffle off of Russia's body. Once off, America sat on his legs and panted slightly. "C-Can I go now?"

Russia looked at Alfred's glasses that were almost half off his face. He took them and looked America in the eyes. "You look better without these." He then closed his large hand over them and squeezed until he heard a crunch and pieces of sharp glass sticking into his palm. Ivan smiled at Alfred's surprised expression. With his now-bloody hand, he caressed America's cheek, getting a smear of blood on it. "Now you may go."

Shocked at what Russia did, he just nodded and slid off the bed. Getting onto his shaking legs, Alfred got to the door before he stopped for a bit. "Since we're done... Can you untie my hands? Please?" Even before he finished asking, America already feared what Ivan was going to say.

"No. That is your punishment for trying to take off the ball when I told you not to." Ivan laid back down on the bed and licked the blood off his hand. Before Alfred fully left the room, he stopped him. "By the way, where did you get those scratches on your chest?"

America stood still. He was expecting Russia's answer, but not the question that came with it. "I..." he muttered, not quite sure if he should say it outright. "I did it." Alfred settled for. It was the truth after all.

Ivan lifted his eyebrow. He waited for more of an answer than that, but America didn't give more. "So, what happened? Did you fall? It doesn't look like when you cut yourself with the piece of glass."

"I scratched myself..." He looked down at his feet; hands still tied behind his back, clenching. If Ivan got him to elaborate, it was going to potentially be embarrassing.

"Please tell me what happened, or else I will not help you for the whole day, with your hands tied behind your back. That would not be a good thing for you, unless you are alright with things like having to eat like a dog, not being able to wipe your ass when you take a shit..."

"I hurt myself thinking of you!" Alfred yelled, getting Ivan to stop. He glared over at his fuzzy figure on the bed, somewhat shocked at his own reaction. Didn't he care about Russia? Everything was changing in the last day, and he wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"Thinking of... what are you talking about?!" Russia yelled the last part, totally confused. America hurt himself thinking of him? It made no sense at all. Well, he was masochistic, but even so, why would he be thinking of someone he hated?

Alfred couldn't take it. He had to tell Russia about his feelings; even though he wasn't sure about them himself at the moment. "I hurt myself, cause I imagined _you _doing it! I... I still love you! I said I didn't because I knew you wouldn't hurt me if you thought I still cared!" After yelling at Russia, he stood his ground; still completely naked.

There was silence as the words seeped into Ivan's mind. Was America telling the truth? Or was he lying again? What the hell was going on? "Oh... ok. You may go now." He didn't look up to see Alfred walk out.

So Russia didn't really enjoy torturing America anymore. Possibly because he knew he liked it or something. And America still loved him, apparently, so that was why he didn't like it when he was torturing Latvia behind his back. So that meant...

Ivan stood up, an idea forming in his mind. Yes, it should work. It _had_ to work. Without thinking about it a moment longer he did up his fly, went downstairs, got his coat and went to the helicopter. As the blades started up, he looked to Alfred's window, seeing him standing there, a look of confusion on his face.

"Don't worry, I'll be back." He said quietly, smiling up at the silhouette even though he knew America couldn't see it. The chopper took off, flying over the thin layer of snow.

When he heard the helicopter start up, America went to the window in his room and saw Russia's blurry figure sitting inside it. Why was he leaving? Was he so shocked that he had to leave Alfred alone for a while? It really was all his fault... If he hadn't become so confused in the first place, then he wouldn't have had to explode at Ivan.

Sighing, he just sat down on his bed. It didn't make sense. It wasn't as if he _asked_ for all of this to happen. And now that he had fallen in love with him, it wasn't as if he could just ignore the fact and pretend that everything that had happened because of it was a lie. Everything was just too confusing.

Instead of thinking, Alfred just lay down. The day was already longer and more exhausting then most days, and he wasn't going to take the time that Russia was away for granted. Maybe -America let himself think- he was just going to get something to be able to torture him worse because he still loved him. It was obvious that Ivan couldn't care about him anymore, so Alfred was going to have to stop himself.

* * *

Yes, we killed another character. Texas, you will be missed! Anyway, we passed the 300 mark for reviews, and UcHiHaHyUuGa was the winner! So the story we wrote for her is called Dirty Dancing, and you can find it here http :// www .fan fiction. net/ s/564 4748/ 1/Di rty_D ancing Just take out all the spaces.

So, just to let everyone know, the next chapter is where it starts to get worse. More torture and all that. And real hard core torture. So if it bothers you, you might consider not reading anymore.

On a lighter note, there is a poll on my profile for a story that me and schoolgirl-cheesesculpture will write! Check it out!


	41. Chapter 41

Last warning! Torture! This chapter!

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The first thing Alfred heard when he woke up the next day was the deep, reverberating sounds of the helicopter roters. Rubbing his eyes, he got up quickly and looked out the window, barely seeing the small black dot of the machine getting closer. As soon as it touched down, America had already pulled on some pj bottoms with a bit of difficulty and was downstairs by the door, waiting for Russia to come in.

When the door opened, Alfred was just about to ask Ivan why he had left when he saw Estonia, out-cold, in his arms. "Eduard?" He managed to get out, even more confused now. Just what was happening? Wasn't it enough to have him; did he need Estonia as well? Or was it because Alfred still loved him?

"Hello, Alfred!" Russia said, smiling. "So, I figured out how to solve the problem. You see, I just don't like torturing you anymore, and you were just putting up with it because you loved me, so obviously you didn't like it either. So now I can torture Estonia, and it all works out for the better. See?"

"Wait... What? This is exactly like what happened with Raivis! How is this better?" America wanted to say how he _did_ like it, but that would make him seem even weaker than he already knew he was. Plus, he was too confused as to just why Ivan felt like he had to bring another person. Didn't Alfred say that he wanted Russia to hurt him?

Ivan was about to respond when Estonia got up and started running for the door. Ivan caught him in one swift movement, hardly blinking. "Looks like you woke up." With the smaller country still struggling in his arms, Russia looked at Alfred. "This will be different, because I'm telling you about it, of course!" He said happily.

"That doesn't make a difference!" He frowned. How could he tell Russia that he was somewhat jealous? Not of the actual torturing, but of the obvious rape. If Ivan tortured everyone else like he did Alfred and Lithuania, then he knew it would involve it. Also, if he wasn't hurting America, then he would spend less time with him again; even if when they were together it was more awkward then ever.

Russia started walking to the basement door with the slightly struggling Eduard. He looked over his shoulder at Alfred, who started following hesitantly. "So what would make it better? I'm not going to let him go." Estonia struggled more at that last statement, mumbling things around the gag in his mouth.

Narrowing his eyes in sympathy for Eduard, he mumbled, "I don't know... I just... Don't want you to do the same things to him as you do to me..." America figured that it would imply what he meant. He knew it was silly to feel jealousy toward someone who didn't volunteer to go with Ivan, but he couldn't help it. Yes Russia had messed with his mind and body frequently, but he still cared about him. There really was no way to get around that fact.

"Oh, don't worry. It will be completely different. You were, for the most part, treated like a guest. I gave you a room in the main part of the house, you had full meals, you were free to roam around. He will be treated like a prisoner of war. Not like you at all." Ivan continued down the stairs, thinking the conversation was over with. He had explained himself, so Alfred should be fine with it.

Following after Ivan awkwardly because of his tied hands, America continued. "Not that... It's...." Was he really going to make him say it? It didn't seem like Russia was going to understand unless he did. "What if something happens?"

"What do you mean? What, do you want to watch or something?" Russia looked around at the rooms. Which one should he pick? He had about five that had the specific purpose of being a cell. They were the only ones with toilets. Some of the other rooms had beds, but they were basically for raping, not sleeping. Or he could put him in the cell that just had some hay instead of a bed...

"Watch?" Alfred asked incredulously. Russia was actually offering to let him _watch? _It would be the best way to know that he wasn't raping him... But that would mean he would have to see all the vile things that would have happened to him, happen to Estonia. Thinking for a few more seconds as Ivan continued to stand there, America nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

One eyebrow raised, Ivan walked to the room he had picked. "Well, follow along then. I'm going to do something now." Once again, Eduard had a fit of struggling, his eyes open wide behind his glasses that had fallen down his nose. "We wouldn't want him running away, now would we?" Russia threw him down on the old bed, quickly untying his wrists and attaching them to the leg posts. Then he took a stool from the side of the room and put it beside the bed. Instead of sitting on it, however, he took Estonia's feet and tied them to the top of the stool, so that the soles were facing him and Alfred, who was standing still by the door.

America watched nervously as Russia went about tying Estonia to the bed and the stool. He had no idea just what was going on, but he was certainly on edge. This wasn't his idea of entertainment, but it made sure that Ivan wasn't raping him. It seemed like a small stroke of luck that he couldn't see clearly because his glasses were broken.

Once Eduard was secured, Russia went about getting things he needed. Pins, vinegar, and a lighter. Then he got a chair and put it by the stool. Then he looked over at Alfred and thought a moment. "You're near-sighted, aren't you?"

Pausing for a moment, Alfred nodded mutely. He had nothing to say, so he just stayed silent. Instead of looking at Russia, Alfred continued to gaze at Eduard's blurry face. Even though it wasn't clear, fear was washing off him in evident waves.

Ivan nodded and went to another room, coming back with another chair, which he placed beside the other one. "Well, you better sit here, then, so you can see without your glasses."

"It's ok." He mumbled, still not looking Ivan in the eye. This was supposed to make him happy, not Alfred. He just needed to be able to see enough to make sure he wasn't raping him. It was strange, but America felt as if Russia did rape him, it would be like 'cheating' on him.

"You wanted to watch. So sit." Ivan demanded. America looked down and started walking forward, then sat down in the chair. Russia sat down in the one that was for him. "Well, as I had said, we don't want him to run away." He untied the laces on Estonia's shoes and took them off, as well as the socks. When he touched the bottom of one foot, Eduard jumped slightly. "Just as I thought, not many callouses. You take good care of your feet." he reached up and took off the gag. "I wouldn't want to miss your screams."

"Ivan, I only wanted to know what you did with my brothers! You didn't have to kidnap me and-" Estonia stopped quickly as Russia stabbed his big toe with a needle, causing him to scream as America watched on with narrowed eyes.

Russia smiled at the drop of blood appearing on Estonia's toe. He wiggled the needle around a little bit. "You're brothers are dead." He took another needle and stabbed the next toe. "Lithuania was shot." Another one in the next toe. This one scraped the bone. "And I slit Latvia's throat." Before putting the next needle in, Ivan lightly brushed it from the heel to the end of the foot, making Eduard's foot twitch. "Ticklish, are we?"

"Look," Eduard started, wincing from the pain, "You don't have to do this to me. Just let me go and I promise that I won't tell anyone what happened." When the next needle was thrust into his toe, he shook his foot involuntarily.

All while this continued to happen, Alfred was squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't have to be so close, did he? It wasn't as if he really wanted to see what was going on in perfect detail. All he wanted was to make sure that he was the only person Russia was having sex with.

"Like I care about that. Why would I bother taking you all the way out here, just to let you go? No, you're here for the same reason Raivis was." He licked the last needle. It sunk into the little toe, missing the bone and going all the way to the nail. "For my own enjoyment. I'm sure Alfred remembers his mangled body, don't you?"

Just nodding, America continued to try and ignore the sounds of Eduard yelling. He was somewhat surprised that Estonia _wasn't _surprised that he was there, but Alfred figured it was just because everyone now knew just what had become of him. They still didn't know of his twisted love, and he was hoping to keep it that way. Unless Ivan wanted everyone to know, that was.

Next, Russia picked up his lighter. He lit it and put the flame on one of the needles. "I wonder how long it will take to heat up?" After not very long, Estonia started twitching more. Ivan smiled and let the flame go down, only to be lit up again. He went over to the other foot and put the flame on his heel. Eduard started screaming. "You know, the bottom of your feet has many nerve endings. Don't worry, I won't give you third degree burns. They would burn off all the nerves, and you would feel no pain. A pitty, don't you think, Alfred?"

Alfred continued to nod, if not only to keep Russia happy. This was definitely not what he wanted to do with his time.

Just as the lighter flickered off again, Estonia jumped on the chance. "I understand your... _needs_... But what if I gave you fifty percent of my country's earnings. Please, just let me be! Tino will notice if something happens to me."

Ivan gave a dark laugh. "You really think your country's measly earnings can be of much use to me, who is almost officially ruler of the world? And so what if Tino notices you are gone? No one bothered to do much when your brothers disappeared." Next, he took out his knife from his pocket and made many small cuts on the same foot, making Estonia cringe in pain.

Struggling against the position he was tied in, Eduard continued to try and bargain. "I cared! I knew something must have happened..." He left his sentence hanging, knowing full well that both America and Russia knew what he meant. Even though he wanted out, he knew better than to provoke Ivan. Estonia had seen first hand just what would happen if he did.

All the while, America continued to sit there with his eyes shut tight, silently glad that Russia hadn't gotten him to open his eyes yet. Nothing really had happened yet, and still he was disgusted. Sure it could have been him instead, but if it was, that would mean Ivan was ok with him again.

"Alright, one person cared. But did you do anything about it? No, you were too afraid. And what will be different this time?" Russia took the bottle of vinegar and opened it. Then he poured it over the cuts he had just made. Once again Estonia screamed out.

The more Estonia lashed around and tried asking to get free, the more Alfred regretted his decision. True, he didn't want to get hurt more than he had to, but having to see first hand someone _else_ get tortured... That was different. He had agreed to it, but even this was awkward. Sure he was used to seeing soldiers get shot and cut open, but that was war, not for personal pleasure. But he had to sit through it. It was to make sure nothing happened, and it was probably making Ivan happy, thinking that his pet had taken a liking to such vile pass times.

Once his screams had died down to hisses of discomfort, Estonia knew that it was pointless to ask for freedom. It obviously wasn't going to be handed to him, no matter what he gave in exchange. The only thing Russia was interested in was his body and life. Once he was dead.... Well, he didn't want to think that way. Instead, he just lay there, waiting for Russia to continue.

Ivan smiled at the bloody feet in front of him. Estonia would definitely not be able to walk for a while. He leaned forward in his chair, licking up a drop of blood that had been about to fall from his heel. Well, seeing the look on Alfred's face, Russia decided it was about time to stop. It was the first time he was seeing him do things like this to someone besides himself, so it might be hard for the little idiot to take at first. There was just one more thing he wanted to do...

Taking the knife that he had been using, Ivan looked at the blood-speckled blade. He picked a foot and stabbed it in the heel, as far as it would go.

* * *

Alright, we don't hate the Baltics! We really don't! It is just that they were the most readily available countries to Russia. So please don't hate us. We gave you all plenty of warnings.


	42. Chapter 42

Once again, Estonia's scream pierced the otherwise silent room, making America squirm in his chair. A part in the back of his mind wanted him to open his eyes to see just what Ivan was doing, but whatever it was, it didn't seem like it would be wise to.

There was a squelching sound as Ivan took out the knife. "That will be all for today." Russia took out the needles, and then reached over and cut the bonds on Eduard's wrists. He immediately grabbed his foot, cradling it, tears of pain in his eyes. The tall Russian put his hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Come, let's go back upstairs."

His eyes still shut, Alfred nodded again, and stood up, glad to be leaving. As he got up though, he opened his eyes a hair, just enough to see Estonia's face twisted in pain and the fresh blood on the floor and bed. Without saying anything, America just turned around and went to the door, waiting as Russia opened it. "Russia?" he started quietly, unsure whether to use his human or nation name, "Can I... Take care of his wounds?"

"Not with your hands still tied behind your back. But it's true that I wouldn't want him to die from infection. So when I decide to untie you, I guess you can." Ivan opened the door and closed it behind him and Alfred. He locked it, even if there was very little chance of Estonia getting to the door in his current state. Although it could have been much worse. He could have used The Boots, and then the skin on Eduard's legs would simply serve as a sack to keep all the bone fragments in.

"Could you untie me now then? I mean," he backtracked, "just so he doesn't get an infection." If it worked, then America could apologize to Eduard and he wouldn't have to walk around with his hands tied awkwardly behind him.

"No. He will still need to be taken care of tomorrow." Russia went to the kitchen. "Now, unless you need help with something, I'm going to start dinner. Do you need me to help you go to the bathroom or something?"

"No..." America mumbled. He hadn't even thought of that! How was he going to do everything? Sure Russia had mentioned it at the time, but now it the severity struck him full on.

"Alright then." Ivan went to go make some supper. He also set aside some bread that he would get Alfred to take down to Estonia when his hands were untied. He wouldn't want to give his prisoner _fresh_ bread, after all.

When Russia turned away to the kitchen, Alfred stood still for a moment, thinking of everything he _couldn't_ do without his hands. Shaking his head slightly, he just tried to stop thinking about it and walked upstairs to his room, making sure not to close the door all the way. With nothing better to do, he sat on his bed idly, playing with the shirt that held his wrists together. He knew if he really wanted he could break it and be free, but then Russia wouldn't be pleased with him.

Well, he thought, he might as well try and have a shower. Alfred knew that he wouldn't really get clean, but at least that way he wouldn't feel so disgusting. He got up from the bed and walked over to his bathroom; glad that he had left the door open. Now this was the difficult part. America shimmied out of his pyjama bottoms and kicked them aside. Then, he went to the shower and turned around, opening the door awkwardly with his tied hands. Once opened, he turned around again and walked in, closing himself in with his foot.

America just started at the taps for a moment before turning around again and raised his arms. It was a bit painful, but he manged to slowly start the hot water, then the cold. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. Standing under the water was the most he could do, since he wasn't able to use his hands to actually wash himself.

As he stood there, Alfred allowed himself to just not think. It was the least he could do, with everything that had been happening. Instead, he just allowed himself to be washed off for a while as his mind blanked. After a while, America turned around and with a bit of difficulty shut the water off. He shook himself off a bit before pushing the shower door open with his foot. Stepping out, he dripped water onto the mat for a minute before walking over to the closet where the towels were. Nudging it open, America managed to bend over and pick one up with his teeth.

Still soaked, he went out of the bath room and placed the towel on top of his bed. Since he couldn't use his hands to dry himself off, Alfred would have to do so another way. He continued to use his teeth to pull at the towel so it was unfolded. Looking at it for a second, he then crawled up onto it. First, he started rubbing his head on the towel, trying to dry off. It was unconventional, but it worked.

Finished making supper, Ivan went upstairs to get America. He opened the door slowly and peeked inside. What he saw made him burst out laughing. Alfred's butt was up in the air, waving around slightly as he tried to get dry on the small towel. "What are you doing? You could have just asked for help." He managed to get out when the laughter eventually died from his throat.

"I didn't want to bother you..." America explained after he got over the initial shock. He turned around and sat down, his body still somewhat damp.

Ivan rolled his eyes and went to the closet, picking out a bigger towel. "I am the one who tied you up in the first place, and you didn't want to inconvenience me? You are a strange one." He wrapped the large towel around America. "While I am up here, do you need to go to the bathroom?"

Thinking about it for a moment, Alfred shook his head. Russia just continued to dry him off thoroughly.

He reached behind Alfred, drying off his back, and also dried off his arms. The T-shirt tying them was still wet, but there was nothing he could do about that. When he was finished doing that, he then lightly took America's limp cock in the towel and started drying it off.

When Ivan started drying between his legs, he just shut his eyes and willed himself not to be affected by it. "What are you doing?" He more stated then asked. Alfred knew the answer, but it was better than just thinking about just what he was doing.

Next, Russia dried his ball sack. "Well of course I am drying you off." He smiled, noticing Alfred's cock getting slightly bigger. "Well, supper time."

Alfred just stood up and followed Russia out of his room, trying to ignore the awkwardness between the two of them. Well, Ivan probably didn't feel strange at all, since he didn't seem to care much about him anymore, but it was for America. He still cared about the enigmatic tall blond, but he didn't know what use it was for him to keep Alfred alive. After all, he had to feed him and take care of him. Wasn't it draining him?

Russia had made mashed potatoes. Alfred sat down, and Ivan started feeding him, because he couldn't do it himself. The Russian resisted the urge to say something along the lines of "And here comes the plane."

While being fed, America felt awful. He knew it was his punishment, but if his hands weren't tied up, then he wouldn't have to continually make Russia do everything for him. It also made him feel as if he were incompetent, and couldn't do it himself; even though he wasn't able to.

Having fun feeding Alfred, Ivan smiled. A part of him wanted to keep him tied up like this forever. But obviously that was impossible. He couldn't be around all the time, even if he wanted to. "Oops, there is some on your cheek." He leaned forward and licked it off. "Mm, I like eating like that."

Blushing a bit, Alfred continued to eat what Russia gave him. It was little things like that, that had kept him confused about everything. What was he supposed to think, when one second Russia was distant then the next licking food off his face? Everything was just difficult. America had realized that they would never really have a normal relationship, but he was prepared to work through it. After all, no one else cared about him. Ivan seemed to most of the time; why not embrace it?

When the food was gone, Russia asked, "Are you full?" America just nodded. He stood up with minimal difficulty. "Turn around." Alfred did so without question. Ivan took hold of the shirt tying America's arms together and ripped it apart with ease. "Your punishment is over. You may go take Eduard food and treat his wounds if you wish."

Rolling his shoulders and rubbing his wrists, America nodded. "Where are some bandages?" He didn't know what he was going to do, but he felt somewhat like it was his responsibly for watching Russia torture him.

"Why do you still ask? They are in the medical room, of course." Ivan smiled and America's stupidity.

"Right." With that, he made his way upstairs to the medical room, staring at the expanse of supplies. Unsure of just what he would need, America just grabbed a bunch of a gaze, burn cream, medical tape and some antibacterial stuff. Sure he had taken care of war victims, but it was a while ago. Gathering them up in his arms, he made his way to his room and quickly got dressed before going back downstairs to the kitchen where Russia was still doing the dishes. Grabbing some of the leftovers, he continued his way to the basement.

"Wait." Ivan took the plate from America's hands and threw the contents into the garbage. Then he grabbed the now-stale bread and a cup of water and handed them to Alfred. "Give him this instead."

Inwardly cringing, Alfred just nodded. Taking them in his already packed arms, he went over to the basement door, opening it slowly. He never did like going down there, and this time was no exception. Once he was down the eerie staircase, America went over to the room Estonia was in. Hopefully he wouldn't blame him for being in there and not trying to stop Ivan.

With minimal difficulty, he unlocked the thumb turn lock on the door and opened it slowly, peaking in. Eduard was still on the bed, curled up in a ball on his side. "Um.... Eduard?"

A few tense seconds passed as Estonia stayed still. Did he hear correctly? Was it... "Alfred?" He looked over and sure enough, it was America standing in the doorway, not Ivan.

Slipping into the room, America made sure the door didn't close as he walked over to the bed where Estonia was laying. "I came down to bring you some food and water, and to bandage your wounds." He added, bringing one of the chairs over and placing the dishes on it. Alfred then sat on the corner of the bed, placing all the medical equipment on it as well.

"Thank you." Estonia said, nodding appreciatively. He sat up and grabbed the bread, nibbling on it slowly. While he was eating, Alfred had shuffled over so that he was close enough to lightly touch Eduard's ankle. Hesitantly, he unfolded his legs, letting the American carefully grab his foot; assessing the damage.

Not wanting to waste any of the water, America just grabbed the antibacterial cream and started to slather it on his entire foot. He made sure not to press too hard on the fresh cuts lest he hurt him more.

"Alfred, if you don't mind me asking," Eduard started, placing the bread back with the water, "why are you doing all of this?"

America just continued to take care of the foot; grabbing the gauze and wrapping it tenderly around the appendage. "Russia hurt you, so I'm taking care of you." It really was that simple for him. Alfred felt as if it was his duty to do so after watching Ivan do what he did.

Taking a sip of the water, Estonia corrected himself. "Not just this. I mean, why are you doing all of this? It's not like you to be so... Acquiescent." He continued after getting a blank look from Alfred in return. "Passive."

A few seconds of strained silence passed as America finished with his first foot and lightly grabbed the other to care for. "People change." he murmured, not quite sure what else to say. More awkward moments past as he finished putting the antibacterial cream on Estonia's other foot and then preceded to wrap it.

During the care, Eduard had picked up the bread and started to gnaw on it, glad for the food. "Were they given a good burial at least?" He asked, figuring that Alfred would understand.

It took a second, but from Estonia's pained tone America understood. "Yeah. I was, uh, able to cremate Toris outside. When Russia killed Raivis, we did it together."

"Thank you."

Nodding, Alfred stood up and grabbed all the supplies as well as the dishes. "Sorry I couldn't do more. Russia wouldn't be happy with me if I let you go."

Estonia just mentally twitched as he thought of the pain he and his brothers had gone through when disobeying Ivan. "I understand. Thank you Alfred; for everything."

Without saying anything, America nodded once more before walked out of the room. Locking it behind him, he allowed himself to let out a long sigh. Estonia and him were never that close -no matter how close their governments were-, and being in that room was insanely awkward for him. How was he supposed to explain why he was watching Ivan torture him, and that _he_ was the one who had gotten Lithuania killed?

Slowly, he started his way up the small wooden staircase, cringing a bit as he opened the door to the bright foyer. Unhurriedly, he went to the kitchen to drop off the dishes.

"Well, how is he? You didn't fix him up so much that he can now walk, did you?" Russia laughed a little, taking the empty plate America handed him. Alfred didn't say anything, just looked slightly depressed. "So, where are you going to sleep tonight?"

"My room?" Alfred asked more than stated. Just the fact that Russia was asking was an indication of what was going to happen. Ivan probably didn't want America to think too much about what he had done to Estonia.

Putting down the dishes, Ivan went up to America and looked him in the eye. "But didn't you say you love me? Wouldn't you want to sleep with the one you love?"

Swallowing nervously, America mumbled, "I do..." The answer was more for the first question, but he was going to let Russia take that either way.

"Alright, my bed, then." He left to go back to putting away the dishes. When Ivan picked up a very sharp-looking knife, a thought struck him. He turned around, the knife still in hand. "Unless, of course, you would rather sleep with Estonia."

"Uh, no.... It's ok, I'm fine sleeping with you." He said quickly, making sure Russia wasn't planning on using the knife for a more macabre reason. Unconsciously, he took a small step back. Sure Ivan had sated his blood-lust for today, but maybe this was going to be for 'fun'.

Russia smiled and turned around, continuing with the dishes. He liked sleeping with Alfred, because it was fun to watch him squirm. Yet, in the mornings, he was almost always attached to him some way or another.


	43. Chapter 43

They had already been in the basement for over what to America seemed to be an hour, and Russia still wasn't letting up. From what he could see when he peeked through his eyelids, Eduard's body was covered in lightly bleeding cuts which seemed to span his naked chest and arms.

There seemed to be a sigh of relief when Ivan put down the knife. "Well, that was fun." Eduard lay down, thinking it was over. Russia took off Estonia's glasses and handed them to America, smiling. "Here! Now you will be able to see!"

"But, Estonia needs them to see..." He explained hastily. Alfred knew that he was trying to be 'kind', but at the expense of Eduard, he didn't want to accept them. "Plus they're probably not even the same as mine."

Russia's large smile just got wider. "Don't worry, he won't be needing them." He placed the glasses on Alfred's lap, not even noticing the look on both America's and Estonia's face. "Well, not in a few minutes, anyway."

Swallowing thickly, America just let Russia put the glasses on his lap. Even though they were actually light, the weight of what Ivan said made them grown heavy. What did he mean, 'he won't be needing them'? Despite Alfred's disgust at the situation, he couldn't help but keep his eyes open a smidgen to see just what he was planning on doing.

"Now, Eduard, I suggest you don't move for this next part, because you could injure yourself more than necessary." Russia was saying, as he took a small bottle out of his pocket. He put a firm hand on Estonia's forehead, keeping it in place.

"Wh-What is in the bottle?" Estonia stuttered infinitesimally. He pulled away slightly only for Russia to force him to stay still. Then out of one of his many coat pockets, Ivan procured a small roll of strong tape.

"Oh, just some acid. Don't worry, it didn't do much harm to your brother." Ivan opened his eyelid and taped it open. "Of course, that wasn't in his eyes..." Estonia struggled a little, but Russia shook his head. "You know it will be much worse for you if you struggle." The movements stopped, to be replaced with a terrified stillness.

Eduard continued to stay still as Ivan taped open his other eye. Already, his eyes had started to go dry which made him desperately want to blink. Both he and Alfred were forced to watch in horror as Russia languidly undid the top of the bottle.

Taking out an eye-dropper, Ivan filled it with acid. "Hydrochloric acid, no matter the concentration, will not eat through glass. Interesting, isn't it? But it will certainly do damage to your unprotected eye." Russia said conversationally, before letting one drop fall out of the glass tube into one green eye.

The scream that tore its way through Estonia's throat made America clench his hands and squeeze his eyes shut. Just _imagining_ it made Alfred sweat, never mind hearing the Baltic state continue to yell.

Not only was the acid painful, but being unable to blink it away made it all the worse. Eduard's eyes had started to water on their own accord from the lack of blinking, and the acid had started to burn his eye, making it difficult to see out of.

After the first drop, Russia changed to the next eye and did the same. He went back and forth, one drop each time, seeing the acid eating away at the soft tissue. "See, Alfred? He won't be needing his glasses anymore." Ivan's smile looked as demented as ever, watching in interest the first layer of the eyes disappear because of the concentrated acid. "How does it feel, I wonder? How soon after the first drop did you start to lose your vision?"

Instead of answering, Eduard just grit his teeth together to keep himself from yelling out at the sadistic Russian. The tape was strong enough to keep his now searing eyes open which in turn made him start to wash the acid away with the tears that were forming. It took all of his willpower to keep from jumping up and attacking Ivan at this point, knowing full well that he was holding back at this point. There were many worse things he could do to him, and all he needed was for Estonia to provoke him to do so.

America on the other hand, was seriously doubting himself. How could he have let Russia go through with his twisted idea of pleasure? Sure seeing Estonia cut up was bad, but he would never fully recover from this. He continued to just sit there; his entire body tense and almost shaking. How was this 'fun' for the taller blond? Pain that caused irreversible damage was much different then things that could heal, even if over a long period of time. Alfred knew that Ivan needed an outlet for his 'urges', but this had now made him nervous. What if he decided it would be fun to try it on him as well? Didn't he care enough about his pet's wellbeing to let him be? After this display, it showed how much Ivan really was holding back with him lately.

When the eye-dropper was empty, Russia ripped off the tape. Estonia's eyelids closed immediately over the remains of flesh, tears falling from the corners. Ivan stood up and walked to the door. "Alfred, I suggest you get something to wash the acid out now, or else it will continue eating away his eye, keeping him in an endless state of torment. He is already blind, you wouldn't want him to suffer more, would you?"

Without hesitating, Alfred stood up after grabbing onto the glasses and ran up the stairs ahead of Ivan. Barely even thinking of what he was doing, he grabbed a cup and filled it with water from the sink. All he knew was that the more time it took him to do so, the more Estonia would be in pain. And since Russia had allowed him to care for him again, he was all but jumping on the chance.

Placing the glasses on the counter, America ran as fast as he could without spilling the water downstairs. He didn't want Estonia to suffer any more then he had to, and that meant washing the acid out as fast as he could. When he got to the room though, he faltered. What if he was angry with Alfred for letting Russia go through with it? Would it be better to just let him do it himself? No, he decided. If he did that, it would give him a reason to hate America even more. Even if he had to hurt him a bit more, he knew it was going to make it better.

America opened the door and went into the room, seeing Eduard sitting on the bed, his head cradled in his hands. Wincing slightly from imagining the sheer pain he must be going through, Alfred went up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder lightly to let him know he was there. What he didn't expect -though he should have when he thought again about it- was for him to jump and scurry away from the touch. "Eduard, it's me, Alfred. Not Russia."

Eduard didn't visibly relax because of the pain, but he could tell that he wasn't as scared. "I have water. You need to tilt your head back and open your eyes so I can wash out the acid."

He watched as Estonia tilted his head back slowly, but didn't open his eyes. "It hurts too much. I can't do it." He mumbled, acidic tears still leaking from his eyes.

"You have to," he tried to reason, "or it will keep hurting more."

Slowly, Eduard started to open his eyes. He only got them open a sliver before he shut them in pain. America really didn't want to resort to this, but since he wasn't keeping his eyes open he was going to have to. Swallowing nervously and steeling himself for what was going to happen, Alfred grabbed Estonia's face. "Please don't hate me, but I have to hold your eyes open..." And with that, he pushed back one of Eduard's eyelids. Before he could see the melted mass that used to be his eye, Alfred poured the water on it just as Eduard started to cry again from the pain.

As soon as he let go, Estonia's eye immediately closed, flushing the acid and water from it. The water wasn't the best to get it out, but it was the only thing Alfred could do to help. At least this way the acid would be diluted a lot and also it helped get it from his eye. "I'm sorry..." America muttered as he pried opened the other swollen eye and doused it with water as well. It pained him to see just how much his eyes were destroyed, but he knew that he was at least making the majority of the pain go away.

When Alfred let go of Estonia's face, he automatically grabbed his face in his hands. His eyes were already bright red and swollen so much that it showed just how painful it all was. Even through it all, Estonia stayed silent; only showing his pain through the tears that were still leaking from his inflated eyes.

His heart heavy, America took his hand off of his shoulder and swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry. I'm going to get some bandages." He mumbled again, unsure of what else to say. When Estonia didn't say anything, he took it as a sign to leave him alone, and did just that. Walking out of the room and closing the door behind him, Alfred's mind was tormenting him. Just imagining the magnitude of the pain made him visually cringe.

Making his way up the two flights of stairs to the medical room, Alfred grabbed some more gauze and bandages to change the ones on his feet and to put on his face. He then went back down to the basement; glad he didn't see Russia at all on the way. Opening the door to Estonia's room, he saw that he was still curled up like he left him. "It's me again. I'm just going to change your bandages now." He explained as he sat down on the bed beside him.

When Eduard just nodded his head slightly, America lightly took a hold of one of his feet and started to unravel the bloody bandage. Wordlessly on both of their behalves, Alfred took it off completely and replaced it gently with fresh ones. After he did the same with the other foot he then coughed lightly to get Estonia's attention. "I'm going to put some bandages on your eyes now..."

Nodding slightly again in affirmation, Eduard let go of his face and turned his head to where he heard Alfred's voice come from. The sight of his leaking, puffy eyelids made him shiver again. Not only did the acid eat away at his eyes, but the bit that had dripped from his eyes had caused his face to have small acid burns spider webbing across. His hands shaking a bit, America slowly started to wrap up his face, making it so that if he was to try and open his eyes, he wouldn't be able to.

Tying the bandage on, Alfred looked over his handiwork for a moment before lightly touching his shoulder again. "I'm really sorry Eduard..."

Thick silence fell on the room, so America stood up from the bed. "Goodbye." He mumbled as he left the room, closing it behind him. He didn't understand how this made Russia feel better, but if it did, it was better than it happening to himself.

Slowly, he made his way up both flights of stairs again, this time dropping off all the supplies and garbage in the medical room before going to his room. Alfred really didn't want to see Russia for a while. Forgetting all about the glasses, he just lay on his bed in a ball; not wanting to know what else Ivan was planning to do to the poor country. But, America's twisted love was strong enough to over look it, for the most part.


	44. Chapter 44

"что это?" Ivan asked, pointing to a chair. It was the day after Estonia had lost his sight, and he was once again teaching Alfred to speak Russian.

"это стол.... да?" Alfred asked hesitantly. It had been a while since he had become studious enough to learn Russian, so it was a little bit more difficult that before. Also, he wasn't used to speaking it, only reading and writing so far.

"Hm. It doesn't look like a table to me. Think of it this way, you sit on a chair like you sit on a stool, so it's pronounced like stool." Ivan looked around the room for something else to pick. He pointed to a window. "что это?"

Thinking for a moment, America replied just as hesitantly as before. "это окно?" When he was learning, he was more preoccupied with conversational Russian, not just learning the names of random things in Russian. "Right?"

Ivan nodded. "Very good. But let's take a break. Supper is ready." He said, taking the dishes and things to the table, he asked, "Что Вы хотите выпить?" From the blank stare Alfred gave him, Russia translated. "What do you want to drink?"

"вoда, пожалуйста." He said quietly before correcting himself, "Water, I mean..." Alfred let his sentence hang as he saw that there was only one place set, as well as only one chair. Just as he was about to ask Ivan why there was only one spot, he saw that he had started taking off his shirt and pants. "What are you doing?" America asked, his forehead creased in confusion.

When he was fully naked, Russia sat down on the single chair. Then he patted his lap. "Sit." Alfred did so warily, but Ivan shooed him off. "Not like that. You get naked as well." He said, his tone implying that America was an idiot to not know to do that in the first place.

"Ok..." he said warily. Alfred started taking his clothes off, completely confused as to what Russia was trying to get him to do. Once all his clothes had joined Ivan's on the ground, he then went back up onto his also naked lap. It was extremely awkward for him, but he tried to ignore the fact that Russia had started to get hard.

"That is not how you should sit." Russia said, and ground his cock into Alfred's backside to get the point across. He knew very well that America would have a difficult time understanding.

America closed his eyes for a second as Ivan thrust his steadily growing erection against his ass. Putting his hands on the arms of the chair, he started to gyrate his hips against Russia's cock. All thoughts of eating had left his mind; now he was only concentrating on doing as the Russian said.

"Mm, nice try, but that's not what I meant." Russia demonstrated what he meant by gently lifting Alfred up by the hips and positioning him above Ivan's cock. "Now you may sit."

With both Ivan's hands on his hips and his arms holding him up, Alfred slowly let himself be lowered onto the Russian's member. Since he didn't get any preparation, he made sure not to go too fast, so not to hurt himself more than he had to. Grinding his teeth quietly, he slowly impaled himself; the food completely forgotten in front of them both. As much as he didn't want to think about it, with every inch that he sheathed Ivan's cock, his own manhood became harder.

When his entire length was sheathed inside Alfred, Russia smiled. "Now that you have sat down, you should start eating before the food gets cold." He whispered into America's ear, his breath making his hair move slightly.

Moaning quietly from the breath that tickled his sensitive ear, America held onto the chair arm with one hand in a death grip while the other one reached out shakily for the fork. Once he got it, he speared some of the strange food Russia had made earlier and brought it to his mouth. He barely noticed the taste of whatever it was; concentrating too much on the cock that was uncomfortably spearing him. Neither of them were moving, so it was torturous for him to keep still. Without realizing it, Alfred had started to grind slowly against Ivan's lap, desperate for some sort of friction while he continued to eat slowly.

"You sure are eager today. Eating supper and wanting sex, really, how lewd." Russia said, smiling his usual grin. The next time the fork went up to Alfred's mouth, Ivan grabbed it and took a bite. "Mm, the taste is very... orgasmic, isn't it?"

Without answering, he just took the fork back and continued to eat slowly. It only took a few more mouthfuls before his light movements turned into a needy rocking of his hips. He wasn't quite thrusting himself onto Russia yet, but each second was becoming more and more difficult not to.

During all of this, his own cock had started to become almost painfully hard. Not only was he not able to just have sex with the Russian, but he had also continued to sit still. Ivan didn't even seem phased by the lack of movement on his own part, not even helping Alfred by touching his pulsing member.

Delighted by the actions of his partner, Ivan continued to sit there happily. While it was true that his physical self would get more pleasure if he moved, his mental self was getting quite enough pleasure to see America's shaking hand lift the fork to his mouth slowly, gyrating on his cock.

Alfred continued to eat slowly, unable to ignore the friction that he so desperately needed. Just as he started chewing on another forkful of food, Ivan had reached down and lightly squeezed his throbbing cock. Gasping at the touch, immediately America started to choke a bit. His eyes watering as he swallowed, Russia's hand had started to rub featherlight touches up and down his cock, making him buck into it, and in turn impale himself further.

Leaning closer to Alfred's neck, Russia kissed it slightly and then gave a small lick on his ear, whispering so softly so that it was barely audible, "What a slut." It wasn't an accusation, just a declaration. "You should probably take the ball off about now, unless you want a recurrence of last time."

Groaning from the attention on his neck and dick, Russia's comment only made him thrust harder onto his shaft. Prying his hand from the arm of the chair, he brought his hand down to his cock and quickly undid the ball on the end. As soon as it was off, the precum that was building up inside him leaked out onto Ivan's hand as well as his own shaft. Without thinking, Alfred dropped the metal ball onto the floor and grabbed a hold of the chair arm again to gain leverage for his reverse thrusts.

Ivan still wasn't moving except for his hand, but that didn't stop America from rutting against him frantically. Once again, his mostly finished meal was forgotten in favour for what was currently happening. Even the thoughts of Estonia were gone from his mind. All he knew was that no matter how much Russia loved to embarrass him, he still loved him. Yes he was messed up for feeling that way about him, but he would be messed up to not realize that.

With his free hand, Russia lightly traced the now-almost fully healed heart on his back. He felt Alfred's cock twitching in his hand, and judging by how sporadic and needy his movements had now become, Ivan guessed he was going to finish soon. "Don't cum without making me climax as well." He whispered once again, this time in the other ear.

Nodding his head a few times, Alfred all but dropped his fork on the table in order to grab the other chair arm as well. Using his arms as well as his legs, he started pushing himself up and then falling onto Russia's cock. Unable to control himself, America let out a deep moan from the movement, turning his head to the side. At this point, his eyes were sealed shut; too wrapped up in the pleasure he was trying to give Russia to be able to see anyways.

When he felt the first wave of cum shooting from America's cock, Ivan kept pumping, coaxing every last ounce out. He felt Alfred tighten around his shaft in ecstasy, causing him to reach his own climax, his semen coating the blond's insides. America leaned back, draping himself on Russia's chest. He peeked over his lovers shoulder to the plate, seeing that when the American had finished, some of his cum had gotten on his plate. Ivan reached around his body, picking up the discarded fork. "Aren't you going to finish your meal that I prepared especially for you?"

Looking to his plate with half-lidded eyes, he took the fork from Russia's hand before realizing just what had happened when he climaxed. "But there's..." his eyes opened fully as America looked over his shoulder at Ivan's face. Was he really going to make him eat his own cum? Thinking about it made him squirm slightly, moving against the now limp cock that was still partially inside him.

"Don't you like it?" Russia asked, knowing Alfred wasn't going to go against him. He would have a few months earlier, but not now. He would never do anything that Ivan didn't want him to do now.

Not wanting Ivan to be upset, America just took some of the food on his fork, trying to avoid the cum. Chewing and swallowing it, he continued to eat around the pieces with the milky substance on it, hoping desperately that Russia wouldn't force him to eat it.

Seeing that his partner was trying to avoid the food with the 'cream' on them, Ivan brushed the hair out of Alfred's forehead a little and said, "But, there is still some left. I don't like waste, you know."

Alfred hesitated for a moment before spearing some of the 'tainted' food. Bringing it to his mouth, he tried valiantly not to think about the bitter saltiness of his cum as he swallowed it. He was pressed for distractions since he was being forced to eat his own seed and Ivan's cum had started to leak past his cock, making his butt stick to him slightly.

Ivan licked a drop of sweat off of America's neck, biting down slightly to give him a hickey. Not that he _needed_ more proof of his ownership, but it was still fun. "So, how do you like the taste of your own cum?"

Shrugging lightly, America just stayed sitting. He wasn't sure if Russia would let him get off of his lap, or if he wanted him to sit there with his dick up his ass. Before all of this had happened, he would have laughed if someone said that one day he would be in love with Russia. But now, it was the inevitable truth and Alfred didn't want it any other way.

"Do you really like having my cock in your hole that much? You know it can't stay there forever." Russia laughed as Alfred quickly stood up. Ivan also stood up, taking the dishes. "You can go clean yourself off while I get these done." Then he turned to look at America. "Unless you want _me_ to wash you."

"It's ok." Alfred said, watching as Ivan went to go wash the dishes. As he went out of sight, America went right upstairs to the shower in his room after picking his clothes up off of the floor. Starting it up, he washed the cum off his stomach and butt before cleaning the rest of his body. Now that his mind wasn't clouded with pleasure, he had started worrying about Estonia again. He hoped that it would be a while before Russia felt like he had to do anything more to him.

* * *

Translations! что это is pronounced Shtoh Eta and means What is that. это стол.... да? is pronounced Eta Stal... Da? and means It's a table... yes? это окно is pronounced Eta Okno and means it's a window. вoда, пожалуйста is pronounced Vada, pajaloosta and means Water, please.


	45. Chapter 45

Warning! This chapter has copious amounts of evil! Torture and all the rest!

* * *

Walking down the dilapidated staircase, Russia turned around to talk to America. "I will be waiting in the room that England was in. Bring Estonia there." Then he opened the door to the room, seeing the chains that were still hanging from their last captive.

Alfred nodded as Ivan disappeared into said room. The room still held bad memories for him -as did the basement in general- but because of his last meeting with England, he was mostly over it. Walking over to Eduard's room, America opened it slowly and looked in. Estonia was laying on his side, his face and feet still bandaged up. They had bled through from the three days that they hadn't been down there other than for food and water, and the fact that he knew that he was going to be tortured more made it all the worse for him.

"Eduard? Are you awake?" He called out cautiously, not wanting to scare him. Estonia sat up and turned his head in the direction of America's voice.

"Yes I am." Eduard answered simply, not feeling the need to say anything more.

Walking over to the bed, America mumbled, "Russia needs me to bring you to another room... Can you walk?" He didn't mean to be callous, but if he couldn't, then he would have to think of another way to bring him to Ivan.

Estonia just shook his head. Oh... "Well... Get on my back then." When he didn't move, America elaborated, "I'm on the edge of your bed."

With that, he reached out his hand and found Alfred's shoulder. Then, he shuffled across the bed and went behind America with his legs around his body. "Ok, I'm going to hold your legs, so make sure you hang on tight to my neck." And with that, America stood up, surprised at how weak he had become and just how light Eduard was.

Glad that he had left the door open, Alfred then took them both to the room where Russia was; that door was also open.

When Ivan saw that Estonia was on America's back, he smiled. "Perfect. Alright, Alfred, bring him over here so I can chain up his hands. After all, he isn't able to stand on his feet." He had made the chains shorter so that Eduard would be dangling about a foot off the floor.

Doing as Russia said, America walked over to the middle of the room so that Ivan could take Estonia off of his back. He then stepped back a bit so he wouldn't be in the way as he started chaining him up, making him hang only by his wrists. As with the other tortures, Alfred started rubbing his wrists from the sympathy pains of it.

Grabbing the main piece of this particular torture, Ivan turned around, showing it to America. It was shaped sort of like a claw, with very sharp points. For the benefit of Estonia, he told about it. "This is called the Cat's Paw, used to rip the flesh off of the offenders, most commonly used on thieves and unfaithful wives. They usually died from infection, so you shouldn't worry. I cleaned it off, and with your nurse taking care of you, I'm sure you won't die."

Even though Eduard stayed silent, Alfred had gasped lightly. Just the look of the sharp object hinted at the damage it could do to flesh.

Although he didn't physically react like America did to Ivan's description of the torture device, Estonia's mind was racing along with his heartbeat. Since he was unable to move or see, he had no warning for when he would be hurt.

Russia moved to Eduard's back, picking where to begin. He obviously wanted to miss the parts that would make him bleed out, namely the neck and wrists. So he started on the back, with the thickest skin. He put the claw on the top of his back, pushing so there were three drops of blood, one for each of the claws. When he dragged it down, he heard the satisfying cry of pain from Estonia. It cut easily through the muscle in his back, and at one point caught slightly on a bone. When he took it out, there were three distinct slices, tattered skin hanging off in chunks.

Alfred looked away as soon as the claws were placed on Estonia's back. Upon hearing his cry of pain, America closed his eyes, not wanting any part of this once again. After a few seconds of silence other than pained breathing, he looked back up only to cringe and squeeze his eyes shut again at what he saw. Eduard's back had only been sliced once, yet it was already torn open. Blood was running down his back and his muscles underneath were obviously ripped by the sharp points.

Smiling, Ivan started once again, this time to the side a bit. More blood came gushing out, staining the claw more red. Still raking the sharp torture device down his back, Russia bent to lick some of the blood away. He really loved the taste of the coppery liquid. "So is it true what they say? When you go blind, your other senses are heightened?"

Instead of answering Russia's question, Eduard just yelled; muffled by the fact that he didn't open his mouth. The feeling of having his flesh torn from his body was heightened from not being able to see, but he wasn't going to tell him that. Even past all the excruciating pain Estonia could feel his blood drip freely from his body onto the floor. Not only was his body in pain, but his wrists had started to ache from supporting all of his weight on them.

While this was all happening, Alfred's eyes had all but cemented together; not wanting to see what Ivan was doing. The smell of blood was stifling now, and even though America had smelt it many times before, this time it was different. Normally it would have been from a battle field that he would smell death, but now it was a person finding their enjoyment from it all.

Looking around the bloodied body in front of him, Ivan saw America with his eyes closed tightly. He started the next line, not even looking at it. "Alfred, I think it rude to close your eyes when you were the one who wanted to watch. And why aren't you wearing Eduard's glasses? He lost his sight for nothing?"

All but prying his eyes open to see the blood stained back of Estonia and Russia standing behind it, Alfred mumbled. "I don't know where I put them..." It was the truth, so hopefully Ivan wouldn't make him find them, or worse, get closer to the broken body.

"I found them on the kitchen counter, so I put them in your room. Put them on when we are done here." Russia said over the pained sounds Estonia was making. Finished with the third tear, he inspected the back. It was a gory mess, with muscle showing through, a bone in one place, blood pouring out, and a few chunks of flesh were simply hanging by a few millimetres of skin. He slowly walked to the front of the hanging man, who was swaying slightly. The sight reminded him of another, almost forgotten time. He had woken up from blacking out, and there were a few bodies in much the same situation, although they had almost no skin left.

He looked to the bandages on what were left of Estonia's eyes. Lifting up a hand, Ivan touched one of them, making Eduard cry out in either pain or surprise. "I never really liked your eyes, you know. Toris' and Raivis' eyes were beautiful. I never would have done this to them."

Knowing full well if he retaliated he would most likely be killed, Eduard just kept his mouth shut tight against all the pained gasps he was making. The cool air of the room had helped somewhat relieve the pain, but his back was still pouring out blood, making him light headed. He knew that what Ivan had said wasn't the only reason that his eyes were doused in acid. All the comment had proved was that Russia just wanted to mess with both of their minds.

America just nodded mutely as he continued to survey the broken expanse of flesh in front of Ivan. It was a disgusting mess, and the sight of it had started to make his stomach quiver. Just how could someone find this entertaining? Here there was a man almost at the brink of death, and Russia was smiling down on it; his eyes glowing with twisted joy. Alfred knew he liked pain, but not this bad. How did he manage to live this long with him? Was it only because they loved each other that he wasn't in Estonia's place right now?

Deciding to do the next one on Eduard's chest, Ivan quickly raked it down, faster than the other times. This time, Estonia cried out. He had made sure to not hit any vital organs or bone, because he wouldn't want his victim to die that easily. No, he would keep him alive as long as he wanted.

Cupping his hand, Russia caught some of the dripping blood. He went over to Alfred with it. "You know, when I see blood as beautiful as this, I can't help but think it wouldn't be too bad being a vampire."

His stomach jumping into his throat, Alfred turned his head quickly from the warm, crimson liquid in Ivan's hand and vomited over the stone floor. He couldn't take it anymore. The pure _joy_ in Russia's eyes was almost as torturous as having to watch him peel away Eduard's skin and muscle. Raising his head, America brought a shaky hand to his mouth to wipe away a bit that was still on his lips. He fought desperately not to spit out the acidic taste from his mouth, instead looking up at Ivan with wide eyes.

"Wow, I never knew you had such a weak stomach, Alfred." Russia dropped the blood on the floor and went to the door. "Well, take good care of Eduard. And clean up a little in here, too." He dropped the key for Eduard's chains and left the door open and went to the stairs. Looking down, Ivan realized he was covered in blood. He would have to change, and hopefully he wouldn't get any blood on the floor. It was easy enough to clean up on the tile, but it still wasn't fun.

Alfred's body was shaking lightly as he watched Russia go out of the room. Next, he looked back to Estonia's bleeding frame; another shudder going through his spine. Just how could someone go through all of this and enjoy doing it?

Careful not to step in any of the still-warm blood, America went over to Eduard's broken body. "I-I'm gonna go get the bandages..." He stuttered, unsure of what else to say. What was he supposed to say to him anyways? Since he had watched, it was almost as if he enjoyed it as well.

Going out of the room as quick as he could, he went to the room in the basement that he had eventually moved all of the medical equipment that he would need. It made everything closer, and it was in a room that Russia hadn't used for a while, so America knew it wouldn't get in the way. Grabbing all of the bandages he had brought down, Alfred took them back to the room where Estonia was still hanging by his wrist. Hopefully, he thought, Ivan would have left the correct key for him to unlock him.

Now this was the part he had to think about. Was he going to bandage Eduard up while he was still hanging by his wrists, or was he going to undo him and get blood all over him? He would prefer not to get so much blood on him, but it would be better than just hanging there.

Grabbing the key from off of the floor, Alfred placed the bandages on a chair in the corner and then went over to unlock Estonia. "Eduard?" he called out gently, "I'm going to unchain you now." America waited for a few seconds for a reply, but didn't get one. His heart dropping into his stomach, Alfred went in front of him and sighed in relief when he heard Estonia breathing. It didn't surprise him that he had passed out, but America thought that he might have died. Even thought they were nations, if their country and their people were weak enough, they would be able to pass away.

He unchained Estonia while gently holding onto his body, slightly off-put by the amount of blood that was getting on him. America knew it was inevitable, but it still didn't make it any better. All he hoped now was that he wouldn't bleed to death. As gory as the wound was, it was more in his field of treating war wounds for his various soldiers. Awkwardly, he stood there for a few moments planning it out further. He would feel bad placing Eduard on the floor, but what else could he do? Alfred would need the use of both his hands to wrap him up, and he didn't want to get more things dirty to have to clean them as well.

Gently, he placed Eduard on the ground sitting, so that he could grab the bandages and start wrapping them around his bleeding frame. America was trying his best to be speedy so he wouldn't lose too much more blood, but soft enough not to aggravate the vile sores - if they could even be called by such a _tame_ name. As soon as his body was encased in white gauze, the blood had already started soaking it's way through, staining it bright red. Alfred knew he would still bleed for a bit longer, but it was definitely stopping it. While he was at it, he also hesitantly reached for Estonia's eye bandages in order to take them off and replace them. He knew he was unconscious, but it still didn't stop the strange fear that he'd wake up and start screaming.

Unravelling the slightly stained gauze, Alfred's heartstrings went taunt at the sight of his face. Because his eyes were essentially eaten away, his eyelids concaved slightly into the crevice and there were some minor acid burns around the corners of his eyes as well as some pathways down the sides of his face. This really wasn't going to help him when Russia demanded him to wear the broken man's glasses. Bandaging them up again while trying not to relive the moment that caused them to be in such a state, America placed the pieces of bandage that were left on the floor and once again picked up the lonely Baltic State.

As nicely as he could, he carried the out-cold nation to the room he was in before, lying him gently on his side. Since both his front and back were shredded, he would just have to hope that Estonia wouldn't move too much as he woke up. Speaking of then, he was probably going to have to change his bandages soon, because they already looked like they were soaked through with crimson blood. Sighing, Alfred let himself leave Eduard alone; still feeling terrible about everything. Why did Russia need to do this? Wasn't what he did to America enough before? Why did he have to go to such desperate measures now?

America closed the door slowly behind him as he thought about the task at hand. Ivan had also told him to clean up the mess, which was his own puke and Estonia's coagulating blood. Cringing at the thought, he went as quietly as he could up the stairs to the storage closet to grab some various things to clean. He figured there were probably products downstairs for this very use, but he really didn't want to go around looking for them. Who knew what other horrors he would find.

Taking the bottles and rags downstairs to the room that England and now Estonia were chained in, Alfred's stomach churned at the smell that had started to hang in the room. It was an obvious mix of his stomach acid and contents along with the blood, but it still made him sick. He really was becoming weaker. Normally not even the pure stench of death could phase him, but as soon as the blood was being spilt liberally for Ivan's pleasure, it made his stomach flip.

It took a second for him to assess just how to tackle the mess before he just took the majority of the rags and threw them on the floor over the congealing mess. Hopefully that would get most of it so he didn't have to touch the rest. Moving the rags around with his foot, he managed to clean up the worst of it like he thought; picking them up by his fingertips and moving them to the corner. He didn't know what to do with them, and he didn't want to pick them up more than he had to.

Next was the parts that had stayed on the ground. Mostly it was just thickened blood on the cold, stone floor, but some was on the bottom chains where they were just laying there. Spraying chemicals on the mess, he used the rest of the rags to clean it all up. Once he was finished, he allowed himself to sigh again. America wasn't happy to be covered in someone else's -not just someone, another nation's- blood, but since he was able to help Estonia and clean for Russia, he hoped everything would be ok. At least for a while longer. Shouldn't that have been enough for Ivan for a while now?


	46. Chapter 46

Leaving the pile of blood-and-vomit soaked rags in the corner of the room, Alfred then made his way back up the two flights of stairs. He had almost forgotten about it, but his clothes had started to go crisp with flaking, rust coloured blood. Just as he was about to pass Russia's room, he stopped. Without knowing what possessed him to do so, Alfred opened the door slowly, not even bothering to knock. He then walked in slowly, just enough so that Ivan could see him.

Looking up from his work, Russia was surprised to see Alfred, covered in blood. He put his papers down to look at the sight before him. His nearest camera was by his bed... maybe America wouldn't mind it if he took just one picture? "So, how is the patient? By the look of it, he lost a lot of blood."

Without answering, Alfred just pulled of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Looking down and away from Russia, he then paused for a moment before taking off his pants. He didn't know why he was doing it, but it was probably to do with the fact that he didn't want to be reminded of everything that went along with them. Even he knew it was immature, but he really didn't care. Once he was down to his boxers, America looked up at Russia; his eyes all but glazed over.

Ivan lifted an eyebrow, seeing the suddenly naked man before him. Of course, it didn't ruin the chance for a photo shoot, because some of the blood had seeped through, making Alfred's skin also covered in blood. And the fact that he was naked didn't take away from the picture, as well. He stood up, going over to his bed to retrieve his camera. "Well, what are you trying to get, doing that all of a sudden? Do you really want to have sex now?" When he took the picture, Russia was surprised that America didn't do anything.

Still not answering Russia, America just turned around and walked back out of his room, his mood having done a one-eighty. Sure he was disgusted with what he had done to Estonia, but now he had realized just how far he had gone as well. His mind had become twisted beyond belief, and he didn't know what to do. Yes, he still cared about Ivan, but after everything that happened, it was becoming clearer to him. By the day, he had become more and more of a burden on Russia.

Sure he was torturing other people and not him, but that was only because he loved him. If he would have never said anything, none of this would have happened. All of a sudden it wasn't just about Estonia anymore, but about all the others that would follow once he had outlived his purpose. If Russia continued to keep Alfred around, then he would have to bring in more people to send to the brink of death only for Alfred to scramble to bring them back. What good was he doing Ivan? Without him, he could just go back to being himself.

Left alone, Russia continued sitting there, wondering what that whole show was about. He heard the faint sound of the shower running, and shrugged. If Alfred wanted to get naked in front of him for no apparent reason, he could go right ahead.

Letting the water run over his body and clean off the blood, Alfred just stood there. There was nothing for him to do, so he just blanked his mind and stared at the shower walls. Without realizing it, he had let himself slowly slide down so that he was sitting on the floor. Watching the water idly, Alfred sighed. It was all just too much to think about, so he continued to forget about everything.

Minutes went by as he continued to just sit there even as the water started to become cool. Even as a half hour passed by, America was still blocking out everything. He hadn't even cleaned himself off properly, just letting the water do it.

The shower was still running? What was that idiot doing? Drowning himself? Probably. Ivan stood up and went to Alfred's room, opening the door to the bathroom. Alright, so he wasn't drowning himself, just sitting on the floor of the shower, looking blankly ahead. "You know, those scars don't take away from your appearance."

America looked up at Ivan, blinking his eyes a few times in order to focus them. Why was he there? "Whatever." He mumbled, not wanting to talk. What was he supposed to say: 'Everything is so fucked up that I don't know what to think anymore' or maybe simply 'Why am I so fucked up?'. Neither seemed appropriate now. Instead, he just looked back at the wall, ignoring both Russia and the now ice cold water.

Deciding that he also needed a shower, Russia started undressing. He stepped in the shower, being careful to not step on Alfred. "Have you actually cleaned yourself, or have you just been sitting there this whole time, wasting water?"

Not bothering to answer Russia this time even with a simple statement, he just continued to stare at the wall and now Ivan's legs. Alfred continued to sit there awkwardly in Russia's way, not even thinking to move away a bit. Really, it was his fault for coming in with him.

Finished washing himself, Ivan knelt down with the soap and started lightly rubbing it over America's body, getting any remnants of blood off. He also put shampoo in his hair, working it into a lather. "You would think that at your age, you would be able to clean yourself."

Alfred finally looked up at Ivan as he started to wash off his body and hair. What was he doing? He just inwardly shrugged it off. It was Russia, and he didn't need to know how his mind worked. Even though he probably didn't want America to notice, he was almost lovingly washing him off, making sure not to be too rough. So maybe he did still care, Alfred thought. That would explain why he was open enough to let him continue to watch, even if he was still disgusted and confused with it all.

The only thing about it all was that America had no idea what to do about it all. As confused as he was, he did still care for him, but he didn't know how to show the Russian. Looking over at Ivan, he stopped as his gaze reached the large cock that was only a few feet away from his face. Maybe he could show him that way. It wasn't as if there was anything better than that; Ivan would enjoy it and he would be showing his adoration and submissiveness toward him. After all, he still was Russia's now-willing pet. This would work perfectly.

Without a second thought, Alfred reached out and grabbed Russia's cock lightly; his fingers a bit unresponsive from the coldness of the water. Then dragging his hand along it, he watched and waited as it slowly started to rise. At this point he had all but forgotten the reason for his mood shift and wanted to devote himself to making Ivan feel good.

When he first felt fingers on his manhood, Russia was confused, but figured to go along with it. He stood up straight, letting America have full access to his nether regions. The smaller nation then gave it a lick, and Ivan put his hand on his head, feeling the suds that were slowly rinsing out of his hair. "What, are you hungry?" He said with a small laugh.

Still being distant, Alfred just continued to give small licks over the length of Ivan's cock. Obviously his plan to show him how much he cared had worked, since he had already placed his hand on his head. Even with the cold water washing over both of them, Russia's dick had already grown hard and he had continued to lavish it with open mouth kisses and long swipes of his tongue. With the hand that was still wrapped around it, America started pumping slowly while continuing to lick and suck.

When the first few drops of precum started to ooze out, that's when America took the head into his mouth and sucked forcefully. He relished the strangely sweet taste of his master's cum as he then swirled his tongue a few times along the head and slit. Then as he relaxed his throat, he immediately started deep throating Ivan; licking, sucking and pulling at appropriate intervals.

Still confused at the blond's actions, Ivan smiled, not minding the random act of lewdness.

America continued to deep throat the cock in his mouth, the slurping sounds drowned out by the ice cold shower. A bit of drool had started to come out his mouth as he started humming lightly around the erection, only to be washed away by the water. Wasn't Russia going to do anything? Since he had stayed still during the entire thing, Alfred figured that he would have to make him realize that it was ok. Taking the hand that was resting on Ivan's inner thigh, he then grabbed Russia's hand that wasn't already on his head and placed it there; curling the fingers so it was grabbing onto his hair.

Once again, Russia lifted one eyebrow. Alfred was doing a lot of thing lately that surprised him, although none of those things were actually bad. With his hands on America's head, he pushed a little, making his cock go deeper into the warm mouth. The combination of the cold water and the warmth around his shaft was nice.

Groaning at the intrusion, America relaxed his throat even more so that he could take him in further. After doing this to Russia before, he had also mostly gotten over his gag reflex so he knew he could take it. It was bound to make Ivan _and_ himself feel better. After all, this was something he had become to expect so much that it had almost become a comforting fact that everything was back to normal, and not as messed up as it was. Before everything had happened, he would have never thought of it that way, but now it made sense in his twisted mind. It had given him something to think about other than Estonia and the destruction of the world.

It started to feel really good, so Russia started thrusting forward, fucking his mouth. He could feel the back of Alfred's throat, and his fingers curled in his hair, pushing his head more onto his shaft while he thrust into his mouth more. "I still prefer your ass, but your mouth is still quite good now." He said, right before America constricted his lips a little. He let his head fall back in pleasure, not even caring about the cold water now hitting his face.

Tears sprung to his eyes as his mouth and throat were abused and thrust into. Yes he was doing it so that Ivan could enjoy it, but it didn't mean that he wasn't going to be affected by his large girth sliding in and out of his throat violently. He then placed his hands on Ivan's thighs again, spreading them a bit so that he could piston his hips faster and harder.

With one last hard thrust, Russia rammed into the wet cavern, spilling his seed deep inside America's throat. He had no chance to do anything but swallow, or else he would have choked. Ivan pulled his softening cock out past Alfred's lips, some cum leaking out the sides.

Swallowing all the cum that shot into his throat and mouth, Alfred wiped the few drops that had come out and licked them from his fingers. Then without looking Russia in the eye, he got off of his knees and opened the shower door, stepping out. He didn't need to be around him anymore now that he had shown his devotion to him. Grabbing a towel and drying himself off, America was slightly surprised about how he hadn't even managed to get hard during the blowjob.


	47. Chapter 47

Don't hate us? Please?

* * *

Walking down the stairs, Ivan heard Estonia yelling. He had started as soon as Russia had opened the door to the basement, obviously hearing it now that his ears were more sensitive. Turning around to Alfred, he said "Well, sounds like he is well enough for another 'session'."

"Russia! Let me go now! What more can you do to me?" Estonia yelled out to the darkness after hearing Ivan open the door. "I'll give you whatever you want if you let me go back home!"

Once he was at the door to Eduard's room, Russia opened it. "You know, you yelling like that is very inconvenient. What if I had guests?" He held the door open for Alfred and went over to the bandaged and blind man on the bed. "I should have gotten your nurse to tape up your mouth." He took out an interesting knife. The flat of the blade was curved upwards. "But now I have a better idea."

Alfred's body stiffened a bit as he watched as Russia took out the strange, new knife. He really didn't want to know what he was planning on doing with it, especially because of his comment.

Going closer to Estonia with the knife, Ivan smiled, even if his victim couldn't see it. "Open your mouth." He commanded, the tone leaving no room for disobedience. The weaker nation did as he was told reluctantly. "I mean, you are already blind, so why not make you mute, as well?"

With a noise of protest, Estonia tried to move his head away only to be grabbed violently back into the same position. He had no idea just how he was going to make him mute, but since it was Russia, it was going to be painful. At the same time, America's eyes grew wide with just what Ivan was planning on doing.

Holding Eduard's mouth open, Russia took the deadly sharp knife and put it in his mouth, nicking the side a little. There was some gargled sounds from the back of his throat. He placed the knife to the back of his tongue, cutting through it easily. Estonia made some strangled sounds that almost sounded like screams, but had a slightly inhuman quality to them. The mouth quickly filled with blood and Eduard choked on it. The blade sliced through the last layers of skin, and the hunk of flesh came out when the smaller country coughed.

At the sight of all the blood that came pouring from Eduard's mouth, Alfred had squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. This was too much. How did Ivan expect to have him survive that much blood loss? And if he managed to, his life wouldn't even be worth living at this point. "Stop it!" He yelled out, still blind to the world. "Isn't blinding him and ripping his back open enough!?"

Looking up from the fountain of blood, Russia cocked his head to the side. "Enough? It is never enough. He has not tried to kill himself yet, so obviously I have not gone too far."

"Just stop then!" He yelled out again, opening his eyes only to look at Ivan and not at the blood pouring from Estonia's mouth. "It's not worth it! Do you have that little care for human life?" It was somewhat awkward for Alfred to yell at Russia since they hadn't been around each other much since the last time he tortured Eduard, but he couldn't stand by anymore. America couldn't watch someone being brought to the brink of death and back multiples times over. It wasn't just torture, it was cruelty.

Wiping off the blood from the knife, Russia turned to look at Alfred, ignoring the fact that Eduard was choking on his own blood. "What does this have to do with human life? We are not human. But, why would I care for human life, when it is so fleeting compared to our own? Besides, he won't die from this. Trust me, I know when people will die." He turned back around, seeing the blood pouring from Estonia's mouth.

"Then..." Alfred paused, not quite sure why he was going to say it, "then just get it over with! Stop making him suffer so much all the time!"

"What are you talking about?" Ivan asked, thoroughly confused. America really made no sense sometimes. "It's not like I can let him go. Even with no eyes or tongue, he would tell people, and while that wouldn't start a revolution, it would make things difficult. Also, with these injuries, he wouldn't have much of a life anyway."

Without thinking about just what he was saying, but only about stopping Estonia's pain, Alfred yelled out, "Just kill him then! He's going to die anyways! Just... End his pain..."

Ivan smiled, his face looking like a demented clown. "_Now_ who doesn't care for human life?" He looked to Estonia, who was spitting gobs of blood on the ground. "Kill him? I suppose I could. Then I would have all the Baltic States." He stood up and went to the door, already knowing what he was going to do. "Bring him outside in half an hour."

America just nodded, unable to look at Russia or Eduard. He was just hoping desperately that Estonia wouldn't think less of him for suggesting for Ivan to kill him. After all, if he was to stay alive, it would forever be a half life in the basement, being tortured constantly with no end in sight but a painful death. Maybe at least this way it would be quick.

He waited a bit before following after Ivan upstairs. He felt terrible about leaving Estonia alone, but he really didn't know what to do to stop the bleeding. Making sure he wouldn't see Ivan, he made his way to a random room on the second floor and lay on the bed, waiting out the tense thirty minutes.

Once the half hour was over, Alfred got up from the bed and went out the door and down the stairs till he was in front of Eduard's room. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and was immediately hit with the smell of blood. Not letting it get to him, he just went across the room to where Estonia was laying on his side, his mouth covered in blood. Insure of what to say, America instead just lightly touched his shoulder, causing him to flinch away. Instead of saying anything, he just put his arms under his legs and picked him up bridal style. Alfred figured it would be for the best, since he couldn't see and probably still couldn't walk.

With Eduard struggling a bit, America had to say something. "I'm sorry." He just mumbled, making Estonia stop. Once he got up the creaking stairs, Alfred then opened the door awkwardly, glad that the locks were already undone.

Outside, Ivan had cleared a spot from the snow and gotten a bunch of dry wooden logs. It had taken him a while to find the past piece of the twisted puzzle, but now it was all set. He just had to wait for the other two to come outside.

Looking outside after opening the door, he was surprised to see a large clearing of short, green grass with a bunch of dry firewood with a large, water filled pot on top of it all. "I brought him here, like you said." America all but spat, wanting to end Estonia's pain. All of this was too much for him.

"Alright." With that, Russia lit a match, lighting some of the kindling to start a fire underneath the pot. He had gotten the big pot in the middle ages, and since it wasn't exclusively a torture device, and the room downstairs only had so much room, he had placed it in another room, which is why it had taken him a while to find it. "Put him in, then." He said motioning to the cauldron.

"What?" Alfred sputtered as Estonia turned his head toward Russia's voice and started shivering from the cool Russian air. Did he really expect him to do it?

"Don't worry, the water is still cold." To demonstrate, Ivan put his hand in it and swished it around a little, making the water turn. "And since you are carrying him, it would be easier for you to put him in. Unless you would rather make him walk on his feet."

Shuddering at the thought as well as from the cold, America just shook his head. "I can't do it. I... Just want his pain to end. I don't want to actually be the one who does it."

Ivan gave a quick laugh. "You are the one that wanted him to die. Does it really matter at this point who puts him in the pot? You are a part of this, if you like it or not. Of course, if you don't want to put him in, there are always... other methods I could use to end his misery. They will most likely be more painful than anything he has ever experienced, and will take longer than this way."

Swallowing loudly, he moved closer to the pot. Was he really going to do it? He knew just a bit of how vile and cruel Ivan could be deciding just how to kill someone, but was it still necessary to boil the man alive? His entire body shaking from nerves, Alfred lifted the broken body high enough to lightly slip him into the lukewarm water. "I'm so sorry." He muttered again, quiet enough so that only Eduard could hear him.

The flames of the fire were now high enough to lap at the underside of the iron pot. Now it was just waiting, so Russia got the chair he had brought out earlier. He also brought another for Alfred. "Sit back and enjoy the show."

"No." He muttered, shaking his head. "I can't do it anymore. You're the one that likes things like this, not me. I only did it because I c-care about you." Before Ivan could stop him, America started walking back to the house, his entire body all but convulsing now. What did he do? How could he have let himself take another's life, even if it was for the best?

Shrugging, Russia sat down. He could tell the water was getting warm by Estonia's actions, looking around and breathing hard. After a few minutes, he started feeling for the side, to get out. Ivan stood up and pushed him back in. "Trust me, it will be much less painful for you if we do it this way." Taking out the rope that he brought along just in case, he tied Eduard's hands together. There were sounds of protest deep in his throat, but he couldn't speak. Some blood still seeped from his mouth.

Quickly, the doomed nation started thrashing around in an attempt to get away. Then he gave one loud, long yell, the one sound that still sounded the same with no tongue.

Hearing Estonia's garbled yell made Alfred stop for a second, before running even faster up to his room. He couldn't deal with the fact that he had allowed him to be submitted to such a fate, but at least now he wouldn't be tortured countless times before having to kill himself. All America could hope for at this point was for him to die quickly and as painlessly as such a cruel way would let him.

This was a much better method of making someone unable to talk than simply gagging them. He had always had a problem with gagging people, because Ivan loved the sounds of their screams. It was as piano music was to Austria.

The screams as Estonia slowly died were some of the best screams he had heard. No pleas for mercy, no tears for a shortened life. Simply screams, horrible and raw. He thrashed around wildly, hot water spilling over the edge and putting out small parts of the fire. It started snowing, the flakes melting before they hit the water. Ivan thought it was lovely, the white specks framing the pain before him.

Soon after the water started to boil, the screams stopped.

The limp body, bloody mouth still open, fell into the water with a splash, sizzling. Russia put out the fire with a bucket of water. The body would have to stay in there for a while, the water still much too hot for someone to reach in there. Ivan looked inside, seeing the cloth around Eduard's eyes float away, leaving open caves where eyes once were. This marked the end of Russia's fun.

As the screams from outside suddenly died out, America didn't even look up from where he was laying on his bed. He didn't want to think about it. Ivan was sitting there, watching as Estonia was boiled alive; and he enjoyed it. How could he find such joy in death? Is this what he wanted from Alfred?

Going inside, Russia closed the door. No doubt America was in his room, cowering under the covers or something. He went up the stairs, making a quick stop at his room before going to see Alfred.

Curled up in a ball on his bed, Alfred didn't notice when Russia opened his metal door. He was still too preoccupied with just what he let happen. It was for the best.... Wasn't it? After all, he would have just continued to be tortured.

"I have to go for a while. When the water has cooled down, you may dispose of the body. Oh, and I got you something so that you won't be lonely when I'm gone." Russia threw a large vibrator on the bed. "While not perfect, the shape is almost exactly like mine."

America looked up from the bed, his face completely dry because he was too upset to cry. His first reaction was to yell at Russia about how it was his fault, but that would be a lie. After all, it was Alfred's decision to end his life. "What?" He mumbled instead, looking down at the object that Ivan threw on his bed. Was it just what he thought it was?

"Well, I figured that the last time we had sex, you wanted it so much that you would feel better if you could do it yourself while I was away." He went to the door, finished with this conversation. "See you when I get back."

"Wait... You're leaving?" Alfred asked quickly, confused just to where Russia would be going. Was he going to go find someone else already? Wasn't it enough for him to have his way with America? He valiantly tried to ignore the large, colourful toy on his bed.

"Well of course ruling the world involves me leaving, still. I have more to do than coddle you all day long." He walked down the hallway, heading to the staircase. If only Germany could keep Italy in line, everything would be fine.

Watching Russia leave, Alfred quickly grabbed the dildo and threw it under his bed. He didn't want to see it, never mind even think about using it. What would be the point of it being close to Ivan's if it wasn't his? Even more pressing was the question of just why he was leaving. Sure he had said it was to take over the world even more, but he still could be looking for another person to bring back. America got up from his bed and went to the window just in time to see Russia start up the helicopter and then fly off.

At the same time he looked outside, he saw the giant cauldron with Eduard's bloated body in it. If he didn't take it out soon, the water would freeze, but he would have to touch the body that he helped kill. Even thought he felt terrible about doing it, he decided to just leave it. If Ivan wanted to dispose of it, he would have to do it himself.


	48. Chapter 48

After three days, Ivan returned. He smoothly landed the helicopter in the middle of the snow. Having to use it so much, he was one of the best pilots, flying in snow storms and much else. Today, however, there was not even snow fall.

The first place he went was Alfred's room, as always. The blond was reading on the bed, a sorrowful look on his face. "So? How did you enjoy my present?"

Looking up from his book, America mumbled quietly, "I didn't use it," before looking back to the novel. After all that had happened, being left alone for three days had only given him more time to think about everything, and it wasn't a good thing. He was even more confused about his feelings toward the Russian, and had no idea what to do about it.

"Well that's not nice." He went to sit on the bed. "So, did you cremate him, too?"

Alfred flinched slightly as Ivan sat down, but quickly relaxed. "No." He continued mumbling, unable to meet his eyes. How was he supposed to act around him now?

Leaning in to see what book America was reading, Ivan cocked his head slightly. "Well what did you do with the body? The ground is frozen, so you couldn't have buried him."

"Nothing." He stated simply, still keeping his eyes locked on the book. "I just left it." He really should have felt worse about it, but at the moment he could only concentrate on the fact that Russia was sitting on his bed and not making a move to do anything. It had been a while since they had done anything; was killing Eduard enough for him for a while? All America knew was that his heart started beating fast from fear mixed with arousal.

"Well that's not very nice. Just leaving him behind the house like that to freeze." He gave a small laugh, mouth curling into a half-smile. "Maybe you have a little sadism in you, after all."

Instead of fighting back, Alfred just tried to ignore both Ivan's comment and his presence by reading. It wasn't a very interesting book to begin with, but it was helping him somewhat forget just how awkward he was feeling at the moment. A light blush made it's way onto his face as Russia continued to just sit there, watching him with smiling eyes.

"Well, now the water is probably frozen, and you will have a more difficult time getting it out." Russia raised his eyebrow, making sure that his idiot of a lover understood exactly what he meant.

America stood up, the blood in his face drained slowly. How was he going to get the body out now that it was frozen in the cauldron? America was going to have to melt the water with some more firewood and such. And what was the point anyways? He wasn't going to be able to cremate it like the others since it was wet, so what could he do? Did Russia expect him to do the impossible?

"Well, you should be able to find dry firewood upstairs in the room with the fireplace. There are also some matches there." He stood up, going to the door. "Have fun. Dinner will be in about an hour."

Watching as Ivan left, Alfred stood still for a second before leaving his room and going to the room he mentioned. He had hoped he wouldn't need too much firewood so that he wouldn't have to take too many trips, but he was prepared to do so if it was to follow Russia's order.

Grabbing as much as he could from the room, he then made his way down the stairs to the back door and placed the logs around the cauldron. It was completely frozen over, and America was glad that it wasn't possible to see the body in it yet. He decided that it would be better to have more wood, so he made one more trip before trying to get the fire started. It took him three matches before the small flame stayed, slowly engulfing the rest of the firewood.

It took a few minutes before America could tell that it was actually melting the ice inside. With the fire rapidly eating away at it's fuel, he made another trip back to the house; barely thinking about what he was going to do once it was melted.

Once he was back outside, putting the wood on the growing fire, Alfred noticed that the water was mostly thawed and that he could now get the body out. The reason why he had left it in the first place was not because he didn't want to deal with it, but more because he was the one to physically kill him. It wasn't like with Lithuania that Russia killed him because of his choice. With Estonia, he had to physically kill him by putting him in the cauldron. That was why he felt so put off with taking care of the corpse.

After taking a deep breath, America then tried pushing against the iron pot to tip it over enough to get the water and hopefully the body out. He only succeeded in getting a bit out, but that little bit made it easier to push it over more to eventually get the corpse of Eduard out.

Because of the water from the pot, the fire had mostly died out; leaving the body on top of a rapidly disappearing flame. He figured that if he let it dry out on the fire for a bit, then it would eventually be able to burn, but it was going to take a while. And on top of all that, he had to be able to keep the fire going after almost dousing the entire thing out.

All but running back and forth to get more fuel for the fire, he eventually got the fire back to a roaring blaze; drying out the body and watching as it started to burn. It wasn't nearly as instantaneous as Toris or Raivis' was, but they weren't in water for a few days before hand like he was.

Once there were only bones left, America let himself go back in the house, hoping that Ivan wouldn't be upset with him for how long it took. Looking into the kitchen he saw Russia just standing there, looking intimidating.

"You know, for one so spoilt, you would think that you would want your dinner while it is hot." Russia said, putting Alfred's plate on the table. It was about an hour old, the heat long-since gone from it.

"Sorry." He murmured, going over to the table and sitting down in front of the plate. Looking up at Russia expectantly, he waited for his nod before he started eating passively. America wasn't too hungry after what he just did, but he knew that he had to eat or else starve. Sure Ivan always fed him, but there were some times when he disobeyed him or did something wrong when he wasn't able to eat.

"Well, since I ate my food when it was warm, there is no reason to stay here. You _can_ clean your own dishes, can't you?" He stood up and walked away, towards the stairs, not looking back. The cool marble under his fingers for the hand railing felt nice.

As Russia went upstairs, Alfred continued to eat slowly. Once he was finished the simple, cold meal, he got up from the table and brought his dishes to the sink. Ivan had told him to wash them himself, so he did so; filling the sink with warm soapy water then washing them methodically. Finished with them, he dried them and put them away after tidying up the rest of the kitchen.

Then, he started to make his way up the stairs to his room. On the way, he couldn't help but think about just how strange Ivan had been since Estonia died. Was he upset that Alfred made him kill him? Now that he was gone, Russia would have to get another person to torture, or finally just torture him. Would he even do that? It seemed like he was pretty against physical torture now that he knew that Alfred still cared about him, but now would he change his mind? He just hoped that he wouldn't be too distant for much longer.

.oOo.

Russia's murderous thoughts started about three weeks later.

If he saw the blond anywhere near water, the thought that people could drown in an inch of water would pop into his mind. If America was leaning on a pillow, he would think of gently squeezing the life out of him with that same pillow. Even if Alfred wasn't around, visions of soaking in his blood would float in front of his sight, the gruesome picture almost seeming to hang in thin air.

The steady click of the knife on the cutting board rang around the room. Of course, the thought of throwing it at America's left eye had been playing around in Ivan's head for a while. Because he was distracted, the knife slipped and cut his finger.

Alfred had been sitting at the table, idly watching Russia make dinner as he all of a sudden stopped and looked down at his hand. Concerned, he got up to see what had happened, and saw a small pool of blood forming near his finger on the cutting board. "What happened?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer. It had seemed like the longer since Estonia died, the more distracted Ivan got when he was in the same room as him. He had no idea why, but he knew he didn't like it.

"Nothing." Russia licked the blood off his finger and continued chopping, being careful to not touch the food with his wounded finger. He tried not to think about how close Alfred's neck was, and how easily the knife would slip in there, sending blood raining around the room. And of course he wasn't thinking about how his fingers would look drenched in that blood, or how America's head would look if he suddenly twisted it to the side until he heard that satisfying crack...

Suddenly his hand was being taken lightly into Alfred's, his eyes looking intently at the cut.

"Here," he murmured, looking around a bit before grabbing some paper towel. Wrapping it around the wounded finger, he raised it to be level with Ivan's chest and then grabbed his other hand; making him hold onto it. "Keep it above your heart and apply pressure. I'll be back with a bandage." And with that, Alfred all but ran up the stairs to the medical room, intent on doing just that.

For a second, Ivan watched America's retreating back. Then he shrugged, sweeping the chopped up carrots into a pot. He continued making the dinner, almost smiling when he started thinking about how many different poisons he could slip into Alfred's stew without him noticing the taste or smell, and die relatively quickly.

When he got back to the kitchen with the bandage, he stood still for a moment, watching Russia cook before he intervened. "What are you doing? You're going to bleed more." America went up to Ivan and grabbed his hand again, noticing that the only thing keeping the papertowel on was his own blood. He removed it slowly, making sure not to hurt Russia any more than he had to and carefully put the bandage on, making sure that it covered all of the cut. "Does it hurt?" Alfred asked quietly; his face dusted lightly with pink.

"It isn't too bad." He said, not looking at America. Because if he looked at him, he would surely see one of the pressure points that he could use to kill him with one hit. "It's not like I cut it off or something."

"But still..." He mumbled. It was becoming progressively more awkward to be around the Russian, but he couldn't help it. Ivan hadn't done anything with him except for meals for a while, and he was a bit nervous that he was starting to not care for him. Was it possible? After all, he sometimes looked at him with a murderous gleam in his eyes. Why was it?

Even with it, Alfred figured that if he was to spend more time with him, maybe he wouldn't be so awkward around him. It didn't seem if he was going to initiate anything, so he was going to have to take it upon himself. "Russia..." He started, letting go of his hand, "can I sleep with you tonight? Just beside you, I mean..."

"No." One firm word that made it impossible for any further discussion. How could he possibly stop himself when America was sleeping right beside him, completely unaware of the world around him, making it extremely easy to kill him any way he pleased? If he wanted, he could go get some electrical leads from downstairs and hook it up to kill him by electricity. Alfred wouldn't know anything! It wouldn't be a good situation. "I'm not hungry. Eat by yourself." Of course, Russia wasn't hungry because he had eaten something before making America's food.

"Ok." America said, nodding his head slowly. He was a bit disappointed he wouldn't be able to sleep in Ivan's bed, but he hadn't really thought just asking would work. After all, he was much more distant than he had been for a while, and it did make Alfred confused. Just why was he staying away from him?


	49. Chapter 49

When Russia left the kitchen and he couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, Alfred started to eat absentmindedly. He wanted to know just why Russia was acting so strange, but he had no idea how to do it. If he just bluntly asked him, he would most likely ignore him, or tell him a lie. Could it be because he was getting bored of Alfred? Ivan hadn't seemed to feel comfortable torturing him after he finally admitted his feelings so long ago, and because of it he had been staying as far away from the American as he could.

Finally finished with the meal, America got up slowly and took his dishes to the sink and started to wash them. Was it becoming more difficult to take care of the world now that most of it was under his control? It seemed that he was staying in his room more often unless he was preparing food. Alfred could imagine all the work that would arise from taking care of everyone because he used to help everyone in a more friendly way. Taking over them all would probably created more paperwork and phone calls for him to make.

America still felt terrible about what had happened because he had left, but he couldn't help but hold a little flicker of hope inside him that Russia had chosen him to stay safe with him from the ruining of the world. Sure he had to get him to come with forceful measures in the beginning, but now he could understand just why he had done it. The only common thing with it though was the fact that he had been ignoring him. Had he grown tired of him being broken? Was it no longer fun for him to have the American around?

With his dishes cleaned, dried and put away, he then made his way up the stairs to his room. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't stop thinking about how much of an enigma the Russian was. He had taken Alfred away from his country after destroying it and his relationships with other countries like Canada and England, but in the same move it helped protect him from the utter destruction of the rest of the world. If he was still with everyone else, he and his country would have already perished.

It was difficult for Alfred not to knock on Russia's door when he went by it, but he knew that it wouldn't do anything. If he did, it would probably only make him more upset then he seemed to be at the moment with him. The only thing that he could do was what for tomorrow to ask him again. Just because he wasn't going to bother him today didn't mean he was going to give up getting a good reason for being ignored.

Instead, he just continued to his room. All America could do was wait for Ivan to stop being so distant. Before that happened, he would have to submit himself to being bored, alone and unsatisfied. Being ignored not only made him feel upset and worthless, but it had also meant that he and Russia hadn't done anything since, well, before he had to kill Eduard. Because of that, even the smallest amount of attention he got from the large blond made his mind wander and his body react.

Even with being hyper sensitive around Ivan, Alfred still knew where his place was. If he was to demand something from him, who knew just what might happen. At this point in their relationship he would hope it wouldn't be too severe, but what if he decided to take it too far? He sighed at the thought, lying down with his hands behind his head. Just thinking about him made the American's body feel hot. Well, he thought slowly, bringing his hands down to his jeans decisively, it wasn't as if Russia was going to see him if he was to take care of his own problem. After all, he had been avoiding him; what would make him suddenly change his mind now?

Slow and precise, America undid the zipper on his jeans; feeling his slightly hard cock under the layers of fabric. Thinking about what he was going to do ashamed him, but somehow also managed to further turn him on. Taking the bulge in his hand, he squeezed tightly; making himself hiss and moan lightly from the pressure. Without a second thought, he then pulled both his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

Cursing his eagerness, he then took his length in his hand, running it up and down lightly with his fingertips. After all, Ivan wouldn't hurry to pleasure America: for him, the fun was making Alfred snap under the urge of wanting to cum and be fucked. If he was to do it fast like he normally would, then it would never do. He continued at his leisurely pace, gradually increasing the speed but never pressing harder no matter how much he body wanted him to.

Once his cock was an angry red colour and rock-hard, Alfred went to work on taking off the small metal ball on his wand. After taking it off, he hesitated a bit before deciding to take the whole thing out. Sure he had to clean it every day, but that was only for a minute at a time. Having it out for longer felt as if he was missing an essential part of his body. Who would have thought that he would feel that way about it now when he was so against it in the beginning?

Putting it to the side, Alfred used the pads of his fingers to smear the precum that had oozed out around the head and shaft of his length. Groaning at the touch, he had started to unconsciously thrust into his loose embrace, egging himself to go faster, harder. No -his mind reprimanded itself again- that would be too quick, and thus not as satisfying. The longer he was able to draw it out, the more explosive he knew his orgasm would be. Since being with Ivan, he knew just how easily those large hands brought him to the edge; not quite going over, but close enough so that his entire body would shake with the effort of keeping it back.

Even if America himself could predict his own movements, he pictures not his hands, but Russia's doing all of this to him. Because of it, he could allow himself to imagine that he didn't know that 'Ivan' was going to pull sadistically on his pebbled nipple, eliciting a moan from Alfred's self-massacred lips. As one hand explored the various erogenous zones over his body, the other continued its ministrations on the American's cock, coaxing more precum to bead on the tip.

Suddenly, he squeezed his erection hard; making it twitch and Alfred moan quietly, throwing his head back into the pillow. Slowly, Alfred then brought his other hand up to his mouth, taking the fingers in greedily. Coating three of them liberally in saliva, he then flipped over onto his knees and his other elbow and placed his slick digits at his entrance. Without hesitation, the now sweating nation pressed into his entrance, basking in the slight pain it brought. His fingers weren't as long or thick as Russia's were, but they would have to do.

Alfred curled his finger, searching inside of him for the one spot that would send shivers down his spine. At the same time, his other arm that was keeping him up turned so that he could continue stroking himself. He valiantly continued to try and find it, but to no avail. Instead, the American just slipped a second finger past the ring of muscle; twisting both of them to search for his sweet-spot. How was it that Ivan always found it so quickly? It was his own body, but the larger man knew it better.

A jerky exhale was heard through the room as he finally managed to lightly graze his prostate. Almost ignoring his dripping cock, America doubled his efforts to savagely thrust his fingers against it. Curling his two digits that were inside him, he then added a third; stretching himself even wider with a low moan. Now, he continued to reach for that spot, only being able to lightly brush it to his demise.

Just as America was about to start jerking himself off again, his mind stopped. He still had the dildo, didn't he? And he could specifically remember Russia saying that it was very similar to himself... Would that help send him over the edge? Taking his fingers out with a small groan, Alfred bent over the side of his bed to see if the toy was in fact still there. Hidden in the shadows of his bed, the incriminating object sat there, looking as nonchalant as an inanimate object could.

Squinting his eyes so that he could see better, he reached under and grabbed it; shuddering a bit as he imagined it inside him. It was -as Ivan had mentioned- very close to the Russian's measurements, except that it was made of a type of pure black rubber with small bumps and ridges adorning it. Looking it over, Alfred noticed that on the base there was a little switch. Curious, he flicked it, filling both the room and his hands with the steady buzz. He turned it off quickly, his heart pounding and cock twitching at just what was going to happen.

Looking at the toy for a bit longer, America then brought it to his mouth, running his tongue over its smooth, slightly dusty surface. It tasted like new plastic which made him crinkle his nose slightly in disgust, but he kept at it. Once covered liberally in his saliva, Alfred then went back on his knees. His forehead keeping him up, the frail nation sucked on his fingers again and brought them back to his ass, slipping the first two in without hesitation. It was still mostly stretched from the first time, so it was only a matter of seconds before the third joined in, scissoring himself wide enough for the toy.

Alfred grabbed it off the bed, gave it one last lick to make sure it wasn't dried off and placed it at his entrance. Holding his breath, he then slowly pushed the dildo in, moaning as he did so. The hand that he used to stretch himself was now pushing the toy in further, while the other went to his neglected, twitching cock. Even at the light pressure, he couldn't help but let out another, smaller moan.

Once it was completely inside him except for where he was holding it, Alfred pulled it almost completely out and slammed it back into his wanton body. His entire body reacting, he kept up the pace, thrusting the toy mercilessly into himself and rocking his cock against his hand. It took most of his willpower not to just jerk himself off rapidly. America barely lasted a minute: with the repetitive stabs to his prostate and his member being stroked, he all but screamed as he orgasmed, muffled by the pillow.

Shaking lightly, he took the toy out slowly, ignoring the lewd sounds it made as it did so. America's body was covered with sweat and both his hand and his sheets had gotten cum on them from his climax. Getting up, he then took the sheets off his bed to wash them later, all while holding the dildo in his other hand. Taking all of the things to the bathroom including his wand, Alfred deposited the black toy in the sink; washing it off with soap and warm water.

Leaving the laundry on the floor, America started up the shower. Stepping into the stream of warm water, he somewhat lamented the fact that he was so preoccupied with getting to his orgasm that he had forgotten the fact that it vibrated. Just from that thought alone, his entire body flushed; ashamed once more with what he just did. Russia had given him the object with that it mind, considering it usage, but to have actually used it and imagined it being Ivan made it worse. Alfred would just have to make sure that he didn't find out.

* * *

And let's all give a round of applause for schoolgirl-cheesesculpture, because this chapter was written exclusively by her!


	50. Chapter 50

Ivan put his head in his hands. For the last week he had been getting intense migraines. They were just like the ones he used to get right before he blacked out, but those would be accompanied with a ringing in his ears. He figured the only reason he had not blacked out yet was because he always avoided America. He would not black out unless there was someone there with blood to shed.

It had been almost two months since he had killed Estonia. Russia was actually surprised he had lasted this long with not being able to torture someone. Of course, there had been times where he had gone much longer, but that was when he wasn't continuously tempted by having someone else there all the time, within killing distance. If he was alone, he could potentially go years with not seeing another soul in pain.

Opening the door to the room, America was surprised to see Ivan in it, sitting in one of the chairs. He was just going through the house, cleaning the rooms while trying to ignore the part of his mind that was trying to tell him that Russia hated him now. Even at meal times, his supper was now just left on the table so that he was expected to know when dinner was. Because of it, he had started to use the toy more frequently, making use of the fact that it vibrated, unlike the first time.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked quietly, seeing just how much pain Russia seemed to be in. Slowly, he went over to him and put his hand on his shoulder, trying to get the Russian to look at him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Russia wasn't completely sure what Alfred had said to him, because his ears started ringing. He had maybe a few seconds before everything turned black, and he woke up on the floor, covered in blood. "Get out." He had no clue how loud he had said it, not being able to hear himself, either.

Alfred's eyebrow furrowed in confusion. "What?" Where did that come from? Was he really that disgusted with him now? All he wanted to know was what was wrong with Russia so that he could help him.

"Get out." He said, more forceful when he noticed that America wasn't moving. Both the headache and the ringing were stronger now, and a steady chant was starting in his mind. _Kill him. Kill him. Kill, kill, kill!_

"Russia..." He started, backing away slowly. America had no idea just why Ivan was being so callous, but it was extremely... Strange. He still had his head in his hands, but his voice had turned deathly cold with his last order.

With the last shred of self-control, Ivan stood up and yelled, "_Go!_" The smaller nation finally turned around and started running, but it was already too late. Ivan was long gone.

After Ivan had yelled a third time, America turned around just after seeing his deep, bloodthirsty eyes. Even after only seeing them for less than a second, that was the only way he could describe them as he was pulled back after trying to get out of the room.

Russia's body lifted the small blond off the floor, throwing him in the direction of a chair. He hit it and the chair flew backward. Cold eyes looked at him before he went over there, grabbing the nation by the hair and yanking up. With a flick of the wrist, Russia tossed the fragile head to a wall, hitting with a dull _thud_. He saw a trickle of blood gushing from a head-wound, but it didn't really register.

Through the white spots that had engulfed his vision for a few seconds, Alfred saw Russia's empty eyes which had severely contrasted with his snarling lips. Before he could comprehend just what happened to him, Ivan continued to hit the rest of his body, causing him to double up in pain, only to be thrown to the floor again. After the first hit, he couldn't completely keep up with everything that was happening.

Hand hitting a tall lamp, Russia's arm grabbed it and swung wide, hitting his prey in the stomach. There was blood on his lips now. But it wasn't enough. There needed to be more blood. A knife was brought out of Ivan's jacket pocket. He flipped open the blade with a flick and advanced on the target. One strong hand grabbed the small neck, lifting him up. He slammed the person to the wall, holding him there by the throat. Cold, dark eyes looked into terrified ones as the knife was brought to pulsing veins. With the quarry's heart pumping so fast, there would definitely be blood. Lots of it.

Alfred gasped for breath as he was held against the wall by his throat with a knife by his fluttering artery. What the hell had just happened? All he wanted to do was clean the room and ask what was wrong with Ivan. Now, being strangled, a single tear fell down his face, throughly confused as to why Russia was going to kill him, seemingly randomly. "Ivan..." he managed to choke out, his vision blurry from tears and his body pulsing from the pain.

A second of hesitation. Slowly, the hand holding the knife opened and the blade fell to the floor. His other hand let go of Alfred's throat and quickly banged against the wall beside his head. A growl from deep in Russia's throat, sounding more like it came from an animal, came from lips stretched taught. "Run."

Without hesitating, America ran out of the room. He first thought to go to his room, but then the thought of Ivan coming back to finish the job made him run down the stairs instead. Quickly unlocking the main doors, he ran outside in knee deep snow, determined to run as far as possible. Through his mind fog, he didn't realize just how idiotic he was being, running through the snow without a jacket or proper shoes in the middle of a Russian winter, but he just needed to get away.

Now, with no one else there, Russia tore the room apart. The lamp that he had hit his escaped prey with was picked back up and swung at anything possible. There were holes in the walls. Not a single piece of furniture stood a chance. Picture frames were shattered, anything breakable thrown at a wall. There were long cuts on his large hands from countless splinters and bits of glass. Things that he grabbed now had bloody hand-prints. He picked up a chair, throwing it at the only window in the room. The glass crashed to the ground, along with the chair, falling in the snow below.

Hearing the sound of glass breaking, Alfred redoubled his attempts to get as far from the mansion as possible. He didn't even look behind him, scared that the enraged Russian was following him to finish the job. It wasn't too long till he had gotten farther than he ever had walked before, tripping slightly on the thick snow.

Since he wasn't dressed properly to be outside, it didn't take too long for him to feel the bone-chilling cold that inhabited Ivan's country. Was this the 'General Winter' he had threated him with all those months ago? It seemed that it was, from the eerie howl of the light wind blowing across the empty landscape. Still, Alfred ran, putting as much distance he could between him and Russia.

Was the reason he snapped because he didn't care about him anymore? Did he become such a drain on him that it would just be better to kill him? That thought alone caused Alfred to stumble a bit more. Maybe.... Maybe he should just die. It would help Russia, since then he wouldn't have to feel obliged to take care of him anymore, plus then he could get anyone he wanted to torture. America just hoped that he wouldn't go for Canada or England, even if they didn't care about him any more.

Even though he was thinking about just giving up, he continued to push through the snow, stumbling more often from the snow and from the deep chill that had started inhabiting his body. Eventually, with almost every step he took, Alfred would end up face first in the snow, only to have to get back up, take a few more steps and repeat the process. The more he continued to run, the more his limbs felt heavy and awkward. Falling down time after time, his body by then had started to shiver uncontrollably, reminding him just how stupid he was, not grabbing a jacket on the way out. Though if he stayed there any longer, he would have probably been dead by now.

Suddenly as if he was put into a sauna, his body started to burn up. Since his mind had become as sluggish as his body, he just fumbled with his shirt and the button on his pants, shedding them. It helped the heat somewhat, but it didn't stop the feeling as if each breath shredded his lungs with ice crystals.

Finally, he allowed himself to just fall down, cushioned by the thick snow. It definitely would be better than having to trouble Russia more. Without him, Ivan would be ok. Also, Ivan had said a few times that freezing to death was the best way. In fact, the comforting numbness that had spread through his body was making him feel better. If America was to die, then everything would be better. Yes, his country would fall apart, but no one would care. They would all jump on the chance to start colonizing again; that is, if Russia didn't lay immediate claim on it.

Closing his eyes, he let the cold take him.

.oOo.

Ivan kept his eyes closed.

As he regained consciousness, he felt the pain all over his body that had accompanied him every time he woke up from blacking out. He no longer had a headache, though his arms and hands hurt more than the rest of his body, a sharp pain instead of the dull, throbbing pain elsewhere.

He could feel he was on the floor. Was that wetness he felt by his left hand blood? Or had all the blood dried by now?

Slowly, his eyelids opened and violet eyes roamed the destroyed room.

Broken chair; broken window; broken wall; broken desk. No broken body. There was a little bit of blood, but he suspected that was from the wounds he found on his arms.

This made no sense. Where was the massacre he had come to expect when he woke up? Here, the only carnage was that of the room. Maybe the body was in a different room. Russia's memories of the day were blurry at best, so he might have simply been in another room when he had blacked out, killing America there. But what were his motives for changing rooms?

Slowly, dreading what he was sure to find, Ivan started searching the rooms on that level. It didn't take long, because he could tell instantly that he had not been there. Nothing was out of place, and the floors weren't covered in blood.

Going to the other floors, even in the basement, he came up with nothing. He supposed it was possible Alfred had gotten away... even if it had never happened before...

Suddenly, Russia remembered the tracking device. No, not in America's arm. He had known back then that the blond would try to get it out, so he had never actually put one there. But, why would Alfred think he had placed a tracking device in him when he had taken out his appendix? Of course it would still be there. How could he possibly have gotten it out?

Quickly, the tall Russian walked to the room that held the equipment he had used to fly the helicopter when Alfred had been about to crash it. In a small drawer was the hand held device he could use to see exactly where America was.

There. The steady beep... outside. That would explain why he couldn't find him in any of the rooms. But... why wasn't it moving?

"Shit." Before going outside, Ivan went to the medical room, knowing he would at least need a stretcher. He had a few things in the helicopter already. He took it downstairs and outside in the knee deep snow. He swore again, fearing the worst. The helicopter seemed like it took an hour to start up. Giving another look at the screen and the dot, he took off in that direction.

He should be there soon... there! A white figure! Alfred was obviously covered in snow, but by the looks of it he was at least standing. But that looked too big to be a human, it looked more like... "Fucking polar bear." It was walking in a very specific direction. Where could it be going? All there was in that direction was a small lump of snow. Unless... Taking another look at where the tracking device was confirmed it. That lump of snow was Alfred, and he was about to be lunch for that polar bear.

Quickly landing the chopper, Ivan jumped out and ran for the large white animal. Luckily it hadn't seen him yet. Taking out a large knife, Ivan leaped at the bear.


	51. Chapter 51

_Quickly landing the chopper, Ivan jumped out and ran for the large white animal. Luckily it hadn't seen him yet. Taking out a large knife, Ivan leaped at the bear._

The knife slipped in through two ribs, just missing the spinal cord. As the now-angered bear stood up on its hind legs, Russia grabbed some fur that was staining with red, staying on the large animals back. This wasn't the biggest polar bear he had ever seen, but it wasn't the smallest, either.

A vicious paw swiped at him, missing by mere centimetres. Russia took the knife out and stabbed in again, right by the shoulder blades. The beast roared and swung his paw back again, catching him on the arm, deadly claws digging into flesh. Through the pain, Ivan stayed focused. He had to, or else he would die here, and that would be it. Alfred would die along with him.

Stab, swipe. Stab, swipe. A rhythm was established, sick and painful as it was. White fur was stained with blood, both human and animal. Then, with one final thrust, the blade of the knife wedged itself in the bears spinal cord near the neck. Death was immediate, and Russia gave a relieved sigh as the big beast slumped to the ground, snow already starting to cover it, it's wounds steaming.

Rolling off the body, Ivan quickly made his way to the helicopter and got the stretcher, a trail of red showing where he had been. It was difficult getting it through the deep snow to the small lump, but it had to be done. Once there, Russia brushed the snow off, revealing a slightly blue Alfred, curled up in a ball and naked. Not even bothering to check for pulse or breathing, he just took off his jacket and covered him up, making sure to not move any of his limbs.

Slowly and with extreme caution, the dead-looking man was moved onto the mobile bed. Ivan had made sure to move his body as little as possible, for fear of cold blood from his limbs going to his heart, causing a heart attack. Once on the stretcher, Russia tried to protect him from the cold wind as much as possible as he made the careful journey to the helicopter. Even though he had landed relatively close, it took him almost ten precious minutes to get there.

Once in the chopper, Ivan went to work. He carefully wrapped Alfred's head in his scarf to avoid any more heat loss. He pilled blankets on, as many as he had. Only then did he check America's pulse and breathing. Putting his fingers to the blueish throat, he couldn't find a beat. Of course, with hypothermia victims, you never declare them dead until they are warm. Just as he was thinking this, he found it. It was weak, but it was there. On a normal human, they would have been dead with such a weak pulse, but the extreme cold made it so that America could be alive with even less of a pulse than what he had.

They needed to get back. A warm house, a warm room, where he would have access to medical supplies. But there was one more thing Ivan did before going to the controls. He got a breathing mask that was hooked up to a cylinder. He turned it on, and it would take only a minute to warm up. It made the air in the mask warm and moist, which was perfect for anyone with hypothermia.

When it was warm enough, Ivan hooked it around America's ears so it would stay on his face. He wasn't breathing very much, but at least now what he did breath would be warm air, heating him up from the inside.

That would have to do for now. Russia went to the controls and started the smoothest flight he had ever done, not wanting to jar Alfred and give him a heart attack.

.oOo.

Alfred opened his eyes slowly, trying to recognize just where he was. He could barely keep them open, but for the second he did, he just saw white.

Everything felt strange as well. It was almost as if he was floating, yet weighted down at the same time. As much as America wanted to, he couldn't move at all, so he couldn't tell if it was his own body or something else that was stopping him from doing so. Did that mean he was dead? Was he going to heaven now? That would explain the blinding whiteness.

Still, something didn't feel right for that to be the case. Alfred had no idea why, but it just didn't seem possible. If he was dead, wasn't it impossible to feel pain? If so, then why did his entire body feel like it was stiff and unresponsive?

And what was on his face? The weak nation opened his eyes again just enough to make out the strange plastic thing that was attached to his face. Also, instead of breathing in ice shards, it felt now more like steam.

Now America could rule out the possibility of being dead; although he still wished slightly that he was. He could distinctly feel that he was strapped down to a strange thing with tons of soft blankets piled on top of him. He was still too weak to move anything but his eyes for seconds at a time, but he was starting to be able to feel more and think.

Wait, if he wasn't dead.... Did that mean Russia had saved him? But how would he know where he went? And _why?_ Didn't he want him dead in the first place? Wouldn't saving him ruin his plan? Or wasn't it good enough if America didn't die at his hands?

Ivan saw heavy eyelids flicker. He went to where America could see him. "Alfred. If you can hear me, blink twice."

Hearing Russia's voice, Alfred had to think a bit before he understood just what he said. Why wouldn't he be able to hear him? Slowly, he used the little energy he had to open and close his eyes twice, surprised at that relieved exhale he heard shortly after.

"Alright, now listen to me. Don't move your arms or legs. Don't move at all, alright?" Two blinks once more. Russia took the two leads in his hands and put them under the blankets. He stuck them to Alfred's chest, and soon a faint beeping was heard.

As much as America wanted to ask Ivan why he saved him, he was way too exhausted to do so. Plus, he wouldn't be heard through the mask and then it would just waste the sliver of energy he had left. Letting himself relax, he slowly started falling asleep, glad at the moment for the warmth.

Seeing the eyes close, Ivan bent over the stretcher, one hand on either side of America's head. "Alfred, don't go to sleep." Judging from the blood he had found in his hair, he had a concussion. You were supposed to stay awake for both concussion _and_ hypothermia, so there was no way he was going to let the blond go to sleep. The eyes flickered open for a second, but then closed again a second later. An idea came to Russia. "Jones, if you go to sleep, I will have to punish you." Ivan said in a firm, demanding voice. "You don't want to disobey your master now, do you? Listen to me, сука, I'm telling you to stay awake."

Ivan's threat definitely made America want to stay awake more, but ever fibre in his body was telling him to just close his eyes and fall asleep; that if he did, everything would feel better. It took more energy than he thought he had, but Alfred kept his glazed eyes open half-way. Beneath the mask, he opened his mouth a bit, wanting to talk. "C-can't," he whispered, lost in the sounds of the machine.

"You have to." Shit, he wanted to shake America awake, but that would certainly give him a heart attack. "If you do... I will give you a reward."

Blinking twice again, Alfred just lay there, feeling his body slowly become more responsive but still feel weighed down by fatigue and blankets. He didn't really care what he would get out of it, but if it was for Russia, he'd stay awake no matter just how tempting it was to slip off into a dreamless sleep.

When he was finally sure America would stay awake, Ivan left his side, putting on a pot of water so it would warm up. He made sure that it was only warm, not hot. Putting it in a glass with a straw, he went back and slowly took off the mask. "Drink this slowly. Really slowly."

Blinking _yes_ faster than the other times, America took the straw in his mouth and sucked lightly, bringing the lukewarm water up to his mouth. Swallowing slowly, he continued to drink the water, relishing in the warmth that was now filling him up as well as surrounding him. Why did he think killing himself off by hypothermia would be the best way? Oh right, it was because of Ivan. Well, not exactly, but it was him that gave him the idea.

When he was finished, Ivan took the cup away and replaced the mask. "Remember, don't move, breathe deeply and _stay awake_." He then went to a table in the room and got some bandages. He carefully lifted America's head and wrapped it around the wound. He had most likely inflicted it on the other country, but that made it more confusing. How had he gotten away?

Done with bandaging his head, Russia took the bandages to a chair and sat in it so he could start treating his own wounds. They were all in awkward places to bandage, but he managed with all but one on his back. The one on his chest wasn't too bad, but the one on his arm was still bleeding. It soaked through the bandage quickly.

Alfred lay there passively as Russia bandaged up his head. Why was he caring so much about him? He saved him already, why didn't he just finish off the job and kill him now? Even though he was thinking that way, he continued to follow Ivan's instructions to just stay still and continue breathing deeply.

Finished with his own bandages, Ivan went back to America to check his breathing. He knew his pulse was steady but weak thanks to the heart monitor. He bent over the stretcher and put his hand on Alfred's chest, feeling the rise and fall.

With Ivan's hand on his shallowly moving chest, he could feel the roughness of the bandages that made their way from his hand up to his elbow. Why was he hurt? Nothing was making sense right now. He let his eyelids stay down a second longer before opening his eyes again; throughly fatigued even more because of the heat.

Next, Russia went to get some heat compresses. He put one right below his neck, one on each of his armpits, and the last one was for farther down. "I have to put this one on your groin, so just remember not to move. It may feel weird."

Even with the added heat over his body, America's core still felt cold compared to his skin. He started shivering slightly, trying to warm himself up. Again he let his eyes drop for a few seconds before wearily opening them; following Russia's orders. All he wanted now was to just fall asleep. What was so bad about that? Wouldn't it help make him feel better?

Ivan had warmed up some IV fluid, so he hooked it up to the stand and took the blankets off enough so he could get to America's arm. With the veins constricted, it was difficult to find one big enough to get the needle through, but he did. It pushed in, and the fluid started flowing.

America watched as Ivan uncovered his arm and stuck an IV needle into it, attaching it to a bag of some sort of fluid. Whatever it was, it had -along with everything else- started to make him feel better and slightly more alert over the next few hours. Just as Russia said, he hadn't moved at all and had continued to breath deeply, all while Ivan stayed in the same room, watching him. "Tired..." He finally mumbled, letting his eyes slip shut only to open them wearily.

Sighing, Russia nodded. "Your temperature has risen, so I suppose it will be alright if you sleep. But I will be waking you every hour." The others eyes closed gratefully. Ivan sat down on a chair and massaged his temple. In truth he wanted to go to sleep himself, the day's events taking a toll on his body.

There was no longer an overwhelming need for death. Perhaps because he had blacked out, it took the edge off, even if he didn't kill anyone. Or perhaps it was because he had killed the bear. Whatever the reason, Russia knew it was only temporary. He would need to kill again, and he would eventually black out again. He doubted very much that America would survive a second time.

.oOo.

Groaning, Alfred woke up from his first deep sleep since the Russian's strange mood swing. Just as he said, he had woken him up for a few minutes every hour the night before, and it wasn't until last night that he was allowed to have a full night's sleep in his own bed.

He sat up from the bed and slipped off of it, getting to his feet nimbly. Even though it had been two days, his toes and fingers still felt strange, but it was to be expected. He was just glad that by some miracle he didn't lose them.

Figuring he should probably let Ivan know he was alright, America then made his way to said nation's room, knocking on the door before letting himself in. Unsure of just what to say, he decided to go with the obvious. "I'm awake now..."

Russia had been changing the bandage on his arm. The other ones were fine, but the one on his arm just kept bleeding. It was annoying more than anything. Of course they still hurt, but he could deal with pain.

What he couldn't deal with was where his thoughts had been taking him ever since he had woken up after blacking out. If nothing was done, this would just happen again. Sure, he could get someone to torture, but Alfred wasn't nearly as fucked up as he was, so once again he would ask for mercy. It all seemed like a never ending circle, intertwined with death.

He looked up when America came in. "Well, you should be resting. It's amazing that you are still alive, so you shouldn't be testing it."

Wait, did this mean he did care about him? Nothing made sense anymore, so he just decided to listen to Ivan now. What happened had happened, and Alfred figured he should just stop thinking about it. "Ok. I just wanted to let you know." Without waiting for a response, he went back to his room, all but collapsing on his bed. He was still physically tired, but his mind was working overtime. America had always thought that Russia had cared about him, so why would he just start attacking him with no warning? Well, he was warned, but he had no idea just what it was about.

Still thinking about his deteriorating relationship with Ivan, he fell into another strangely peaceful sleep, unknowing to just what had brought everything to happen.

* * *

сука means bitch, and is pronounced sooka. Now you know a Russian swear!

So... Just letting everyone know, this is the second last chapter. I know, surprising, but it had to happen eventually. We have come a long way, and I just hope that everyone liked it. Well, you kind of had to if you read over 50 chapters. Anyway, next chapter is the last, so be ready.


	52. Chapter 52

There was no longer any doubt in Russia's mind; he loved Alfred. Perhaps in a much different way than most love, but he did love him. But that feeling wouldn't hold up against his need for pain and death.

He could see only one solution. Only one thing that he could do to stop this twisted merry-go-round. Which is why he went to go look for Alfred and found him descending the double staircase into the main hall.

Looking over his shoulder by chance, Alfred saw Russia at the top of the stairs, looking down at him with a strange emptiness akin to that of when he attacked him in his eyes. "H-hello," He stuttered, torn between running away and staying put. Opting for the latter, he stayed shock still, hoping nothing was going to happen to him.

Walking down the stairs steadily, his mind already made up, Ivan stood in front of America and lifted his hand. "Here." He passed along pictures to the blond, just pictures.

Confused, he took the pictures from Ivan's hand and started to look at them. He wasn't too surprised to see that every one of them featured himself, but just what some of them were made him blush slightly. There were the ones he knew about like the one of him eating on the floor like a dog and when he was forced to stretch himself, but there were also some that he had no idea where even taken. "I don't get it." He said, looking back up to the taller man.

While Alfred had been looking at all the pictures, Russia had reached inside his coat, his hand grabbing onto what he was looking for. When it became visible, he heard America gasp.

"I'm sorry, Lithuania, but I can't keep my promise."

His eyes wide with fear, Alfred started walking backwards down the stairs, trying to put more room between the two of them ineffectively. America opened his mouth as if to say something as Ivan cocked the gun in his hand, causing him instead to swallow thickly as it was aimed directly at his head.

_BANG_

Alfred's limp body crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from the wound. The pictures fell with him, scattering around him on the white floor. Ivan sank to his knees beside the body and picked up one limp hand. He bent and placed his lips on it softly, tenderly. "Always remember that I love you." A single tear escaped his eyes as Russia brought the same gun to his own temple.

A second shot rang out in the large room.

_Doomed, from the start. History repeats itself. Roman Empire; fell. Chinese Empire; fell. Mongolian Empire; fell. And now, the Russian Empire - fell._

.oOo.

Bringing the fine china to his lips, England was just about to take the first sip of his freshly brewed Earl Grey when a strange feeling washed over him. Since he had become so used to the ever present aura of Ivan's control, feeling it disappear was like taking a breath of fresh air. But if it disappeared, wouldn't that mean that Russia must have relinquished his power over everyone or died? How could such a powerful empire suddenly die?

_'America_,' Arthur's brain told him. Alfred could have finally become fed up with being under Russia's control that he finally fought back, and won. If that was the case, what was he doing sitting still? With the world free from the giant oaf, then he and America could finally be together again. That is, if he would accept England after forcing him out of his home.

Trying to not think about it, Arthur put his teacup down gently without taking a sip and hastened to his room, grabbing America's bomber jacket. He, of course, had lied terribly when he said he never wanted to see the blond git again, and had felt utterly horrible about just what Russia had forced him to do. Since at the time he was under Russian control, he had no other option then to follow through, breaking both his and Alfred's hearts in the process.

Hastily putting on a pair of winter boots and a jacket he got specifically for visiting Russia's home country or anywhere else cold, he then went outside and locked his door before running off to where his helicopter was. It took him a few minutes which had left him slightly out of breath, but it was all worth it. America was finally free; for real this time. England could now confess his own love for him and the world would rise from the ashes.

Everything was going to get better, he just knew it.

Placing the coveted jacket on the seat beside him, Arthur started up the helicopter as fast as his now shaking hands could. Putting his headset on, he tried desperately to remember just where Ivan's mansion was in the expanse of his true land. Alfred had flown off towards the East mostly -he could remember watching him leave through the window with tears falling silently from his face- so that would have to be his best bet. After that, he would have to follow his own instinct.

His hands still shaking, the Briton took a deep breath before coaxing the machine into the air. Hovering for a second, he then shot off into the sky, too anxious to wait much longer. With Russia gone, he could be sure that every other country under his rule could feel the lack of his oppressive aura, so he didn't have to worry about contacting anyone else to tell them the good news. Plus, the longer he waited to find America, the longer it was until he could set everything back to normal. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened to him during the months he didn't see him, but it didn't matter any more. Ivan was dead, and America was free. They all were.

As he flew over Europe, England could not help but re-live the last year in his head. Everyone -not just he- had been turned into shells of there normal selves. After losing Alfred for the third time (Even though he never enjoyed thinking about his violent independence) Arthur was reduced to staying in his bedroom for the first few weeks afterwards. He had found the brat's jacket in the foyer after he left and promptly broke down; unable to let go of the piece of clothing even as he slept. The scent of it had filled him with hope and dread at the same time: hope for a better future and dread for what was happening at the time.

When the landscape turned from white tipped mountains and hills to thick snow, he knew he was getting closer to Ivan's mansion. After walking the expanse, he could somewhat judge how long it would take to get there by air, but it was by no means an exact science.

There! Seeing the large building, he set his course for there, landing in the courtyard beside another snow covered figure that he assumed was Russia's own helicopter.

Shutting it off, he quickly undid the seatbelt, took off the headset and shut off the copter. All but running through the thick snow, England couldn't wait to see the man that had single handedly saved the world, and won his heart.

.oOo.

Matthew woke suddenly from his sleep. What had woken him up? Not the cold; he was used to that. It wasn't noisy anywhere. He settled down in bed once again, set to fall back asleep, but something wasn't right. It was almost like something was missing.

Then, the feeling of being under Russia's rule disappeared, like a candle snuffed out. What did that mean? Was Russia beaten in a battle? But no one was strong enough to go against him and win, surely. The only other explanation was that he was dead. Was that the reason he had suddenly woken up?

Getting out of bed, Canada dressed, wanting to know what had happened. After all, if Ivan was dead, than his brother...

That was it! Matthew's eyes opened in shock. Of course, that was why he suddenly felt like a part of him was missing, and part that had been there his whole life. It was the part that twinged when America had been bombed by Russia, just a year ago. A part of him had known something had happened to his brother - his twin - before news had reached him.

The first tear found its way out the corner of his eye, soon to be followed by many. He would rather be ruled by Ivan than for Alfred to be dead. And that was definitely what was wrong, he could feel it. He just _knew_.

Matthew didn't have a helicopter of his own, so he had to get one from the air force. There were some curious looks at his tear-stained face, but no one questioned him.

Flying with blurry eyes was difficult, but Canada managed. Soon he was seeing white lands that weren't his own. Since he had been to Russia's house, he found it quite easily.

The salty tears went into his mouth, not wanting to take a hand away to wipe them off. He landed beside another helicopter, this one with a British flag on it.

.oOo.

As soon as Arthur got to the door, he yelled out, "Alfred!" only to gasp as he saw the scene in the middle of the foyer. Not only was there Ivan's body like he suspected, but America's was there as well, lying next to him in death. Immediately his throat tightened with grief as his heart beat increased. How was this possible?! Only Russia was supposed to be dead! Didn't Alfred kill him? How could he be dead as well?

It wasn't possible, that's how. Completely in denial now, England walked over to the bodies, clutching the worn leather jacket with white knuckles. Even the blood that was making its way down his face wouldn't let him believe the obvious truth.

Pushing Russia's body away from Alfred, Arthur went on his knees next to him, putting his head on the still chest. "Come on, come on...." He muttered, willing a heart beat to start. Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, the Briton wiped the blood off of America's face with shaking hands. He couldn't believe it. It just couldn't be possible. Just how could he?

England hadn't heard the sound of another helicopter landing, so he didn't even turn around as the second figure made its way into the mansion. He was far too wrapped up with his illusion to break it now.

Exactly as he had expected. Well, Matthew had considered some other possibilities as well, like them dying in bed, them dying outside, but from the looks of things, it was basically how he had expected. Murder/suicide, and judging by the fact that the gun was in Ivan's hands, it was he that had done the killing.

He went over to England's side. Reaching a hand over Alfred's face, he closed his eyes with two fingers.

Looking over his shoulder at the person that had just shut America's eyes, England glared up at them, tears threatening to fall. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are, closing his eyes! He's not dead! He can't be dead!" Not waiting for a response, he just reached down, grabbing onto Alfred and holding him close. "He can n-never die!"

Desperate, he then pressed his face against the cooling body, willing it to come back alive. It's not possible... He never even got to apologize!

Matthew closed his eyes and looked away, more tears falling from his lashes. How could the human body possibly posses so many tears? He opened his eyes to see England's body wracked in sobs, crying into America's chest. "Arthur, you have to put him down. He's dead."

"No!" He screamed, his voice raw with emotion. If anything, he just held onto the body tighter; if that was possible. How dare Russia take him away from the world? Even though Russia was dead, saving the world from his might, the fact that Alfred was gone as well just crushed England's hopes. "I can't.. He'll g-get cold..." He said quieter, muffled by the fabric of America's shirt.

"Dammit, England! He's already dead!" Canada wanted to mention that he should be more sensible but knew it wouldn't do any good. Arthur lifted his head, looking at Matthew with a tear-stained face. He almost said sorry for his outburst but instead pointed to Alfred's forehead. "Could anyone survive after that?"

Instead of answering the question, he asked his own, "How can you just stand there? He's your bloody twin, Matthew! How can you.... How can you just stand back and accept it?!"

Slightly surprised by the fact that Arthur actually knew who he was, Canada sat down on the floor. "Just because I'm not in hysterics doesn't mean I don't..." His voice cracked slightly, a lump forming in his throat from holding back sobs. "care." He finished, looking to the floor where he noticed a lot of strange pictures. The nearest one was the one he had seen when making the deal with Russia. God, please don't let Arthur see it.

His face still glistening with his shed tears, Arthur placed his face lightly on the cooling chest. He desperately didn't want to believe it... But he had to. "But we're nations.... We aren't supposed to be able to die..." He mumbled again, tears falling silently down his face; dripping on the still body.

Matthew didn't say anything to that. Yes, they were surely nations, no longer colonies. He thought back to then, still little kids, climbing into each others beds when they had a nightmare. Of course, Alfred had hardly ever had any nightmares, but he came to Matthew's bed just as often. He let out one strangled sob, knowing full well that things like that could never happen again, even if by some miracle Alfred bothered remembering him.

As Canada started crying beside him, it was now Arthur's turn to become the silent one, opting now to grieve silently. As much as it pained him to realize, there was nothing that either of them could do now. Yes they were free, but it came as a steep price for the two of them: one a brother, the other a hopeful lover.

While they both continued to suffer, neither of them noticed as the double doors were opened once more; this time letting two people inside. Even as focused as they were on lamenting the loss of America, they couldn't ignore the shrill shriek that pierced the still air of the foyer.

After yelling, Natalia ran past the pair bent over America's corpse and dropped down beside that of Russia. "Brother!" She yelled once more, throwing herself over the body. With the flurry of motion, it made both of the other nations look up at the woman who was now latched onto her older brother's frame, just as England's was to Alfred's a few minutes ago.

Ukraine stood behind her sister, her hand covering her mouth. Her little brother... dead? Was it even possible? Although he usually frightened her, he was still her brother... Silent tears pricked at her eyes, sitting beside Belarus and clutching a large, cold hand.

"Brother!" Belarus screamed again. "How dare you die! We were supposed to get married!" She punctuated, pounding the cool body with her fists, "Married, married, married!" Each time, she hit the corpse harder, finally breaking down into sobs.

Beside her, Ukraine continued to cry silently, wiping them away only to look over at Arthur and Matthew. "Wh-what happened?" She asked shakily, her eyes filled with unspent tears.

Knowing Arthur was in no state to reply, Matthew opened his lips but couldn't think of a response. It probably wasn't the best idea to tell her that he suspected in was a murder suicide. Knowing that their brother had killed himself wouldn't be best. So he closed his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. "We don't know. We arrived after."

Nodding shallowly, Katyusha just held her brother's hand tighter, wiping the new tears away as soon as they blossomed. Judging by the bullet wound in his head as well as the gun in his other hand, she could piece together that he had most likely killed both of them. That fact did little to comfort her, but she kept silent. If she was to tell her sister, then who knew what she would do.

As Natalia continued sobbing into Russia's coat, she used the end of his precious scarf to wipe away the blood from his temple. "It's ok, мой брат, everything will be alright. You're little sister will make who ever did this _pay_."

Ukraine continued to cry silently. She was going to miss their brother desperately, even with everything he had done to everyone -her included.

Matthew looked at his brothers face. It looked so calm. If it wasn't for the pasty white skin - and blood - he would just look like he was sleeping.

None of the tear stained faces looked up from their respective bodies as a symphony of helicopter blades were heard from outside. Like flies, the rest of the world had congregated to witness the fall of a hero.


End file.
